


hey I just met you, and this is crazy

by suzukiblu



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Alternate Timelines, Alternate Universe, Darcy Lewis can't lose, F/F, F/M, First Meetings, Flirting, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Multi, Omega Darcy Lewis, Pansexual Character, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Pre-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Safe Sane and Consensual, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 00:40:18
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 26,961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24614656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/suzukiblu/pseuds/suzukiblu
Summary: “Maybe you can catch it next time,” Jane says, putting the wrench down, and Darcy blows her hair out of her eyes with a sigh.“Maybe I’m gonna be cranky all heat long,” she grumbles.“Aren’t heats a little distracting for that?” Jane says, giving her a puzzled look. Darcy gives her a dubious one in return.“Jane,” she says. “Ian’s back at Culver and the only other unbonded people around are all scientists with jobs to do or Avengers withAvengingto do. Who the hell is gonna bedistractingme?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Darcy Lewis, one-sided Darcy Lewis/various
Comments: 522
Kudos: 1592
Collections: superhero tingz





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [untamedphoenix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/untamedphoenix/gifts), [Zephrbabe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zephrbabe/gifts).



> Written for iread78, who wanted omega!Darcy. I have written plenty of alpha!Darcy and various other flavors of MCU A/B/O, so it was only a matter of time, really.

“Ugh,” Darcy says, making a face at her phone. 

“Mmm?” Jane asks distractedly, not looking up from the complicated-looking machine she’s busy in the guts of. She’s probably doing something important to it. 

“Nothing, just the show I was gonna go to this weekend is gonna be smack dab in the middle of my heat,” Darcy says with a sigh. “Fucking bummer, man.” 

“Oh, yeah, that sucks,” Jane says with the total lack of sympathy of a beta who never goes anywhere, much less to shows. “Pass me the spanner?” 

“Sure,” Darcy says, and picks a random wrench to hand over. Jane attempts to use it, then makes a disgruntled noise and looks at it accusingly, which probably means it’s the wrong one. Well, Darcy never claimed to know what the hell any of this stuff was called. Usually she goes with identifiers like “the second-shiniest one”, herself. 

“Maybe you can catch it next time,” Jane says, putting the wrench down, and Darcy blows her hair out of her eyes with a sigh. 

“Maybe I’m gonna be cranky all heat long,” she grumbles. 

“Aren’t heats a little distracting for that?” Jane says, giving her a puzzled look. Darcy gives her a dubious one in return. 

“Jane,” she says. “Ian’s back at Culver and the only other unbonded people around are all scientists with jobs to do or Avengers with _Avenging_ to do. Who the hell is gonna be _distracting_ me?” 

“Oh, right,” Jane says. 

“Uh- _huh_ ,” Darcy says. Not that she minds their temporary situation crashing at the Avengers complex labs, it’s actually a pretty sweet deal, but it’s also not exactly a great place to turn up a heat partner. 

“You could go to a clinic?” Jane suggests. “Or try to go out and meet someone in town?” 

“I mean, I could?” Darcy shrugs, resting her chin in her hand. “Shacking up with a stranger isn’t my _favorite_ way to spend a heat, though, so they’d have to be a pretty impressive ‘someone’.” 

“Will you be okay if you don’t find anyone?” Jane says. Darcy shrugs again. 

“Not like I’ve never gone through a heat alone,” she says, though it's admittedly been a while since she has. “It’ll just suck.” 

"Well, if there’s anything I can do . . ." Jane says. 

"Not really, but I appreciate the thought," Darcy replies, picking up another random wrench and holding it out in offering. Jane takes it. 

"This isn’t the spanner, Darcy," she says resignedly. 

“Oops,” Darcy says. 

She finds the spanner, eventually, and Jane gets back into the guts of her machine. Darcy checks her calendar again, making sure nothing else overlaps with her upcoming heat. They always kind of sneak up on her, unfortunately, so she usually has to juggle some stuff. This time around the juggling is mercifully minor, which she is very grateful for after the time she was helping save the world while in pre-heat, which had been some kind of hell. Darcy likes to spend her pre-heat building a nice cozy nest, not getting attacked by alien elves. 

Well, at least Ian had been available to help her out that time, so actually the mess with the alien elves has a leg up on her current situation, ironically enough. 

Ugh. 

She breaks into Jane’s own calendar to input her anticipated heat dates with a nice and helpful little notification that’ll save them both some time, rather than her having to remind Jane probably the morning of. Jane’s great, but she’s also a beta, and a scatterbrained one at that. And Darcy can be pretty scatterbrained herself, honestly, but she knows how to handle a heat and “being interrupted in the middle of it by my boss” is just _not_ on the list, nuh-uh, no way. Definitely no way. 

Jane finishes up with her machine, or maybe just gives up on it for the day, and they go hit up the cafeteria for dinner and spend it lightly bickering about different kinds of wrenches. It’s soothing, a bit. Jane’s not the calmest beta in the world but beta pheromones are still beta pheromones, and _Darcy’s_ pheromones are getting ready to gear up for a heat. She’ll take any soothing effect she can get. 

Jane finishes before her and heads out, probably to spend an unadvisable amount of time on _science!!_ because Tony Stark has been a terrible influence on this place, and Darcy dawdles over the last of her meal, idly debating if she actually does want to hit up a clinic or not. She _really_ doesn’t like clinics, though. They work for some people, obviously, but she’s never been one of those people. 

She really wishes there were a few more non-Avengers/non-scientists around. Hell, even the other interns have been too busy to make nice with, so she doubts they’d be any more available for a long weekend in her den. 

Darcy isn’t _lonely_ or anything—she’s got Jane and Erik, and Thor about fifty percent of the time—but she is kinda a little bit alone here. 

It sucks. 

She hears some stifled whispers from the next table over and glances up just in time to see Black Widow and Captain America walk into the cafeteria with Dr. Cho, looking over a file as they walk. It’s not the first time she’s seen Avengers around, and definitely not the first time anyone _else_ has seen Avengers around, but the staff still seems to get a little starstruck sometimes. 

Darcy isn’t starstruck after making buds with an alien god-prince and surviving the end of the world, but her hormones sure do like the sight of Natasha “I Can Murder You With My Thighs” Romanoff and Captain Tall Blond and Handsome. Dr. Cho isn’t bad either, even without the benefit of skin-tight body armor. 

Her heat is _definitely_ coming up. 

Seriously, though. She’d hop on any of _those_ knots in a New York minute, heated up or not, but Captain America is not exactly the kind of alpha you just go up to and ask “hey, want to leave the free world to fend for itself and fuck me for three days straight?” 

Admittedly, Darcy has done worse. But they really barely know each other, so it’s not like he’d really be that much better than a stranger. She’s not even sure he knows her name. 

Well, he probably does, he seems like the type to know people’s names, but still. Point stands. 

Come to think of it, Black Widow probably knows her name too, and _not_ in the flattering way. Ergh. 

Darcy finishes up with her dinner, ditches her tray, and walks out of the cafeteria right past the extremely attractive Avengers currently on the lunch line without creeping on them at all, like a _good_ omega with self-control. 

Because life is cruel and does not reward self-control, she walks right into War Machine and the Falcon in the hall, who both smell fucking _delicious_. 

Her life. Couldn’t be the Vision, no, had to be all the virile alphas and handsome betas. Not that the Vision would need to come to the cafeteria but look, cut her a break here, she’s _suffering_. She really has to get better about not letting her heat sneak up on her. 

“‘Scuse me,” Darcy says, edging past War Machine and the Falcon carefully to make sure she doesn’t get any of their very distracting scents on her, and they step aside all nice and polite and nod to her. “Thanks.” 

She flees, obviously, hoping _they_ at least don’t know her name. She hasn’t been here that long, they might’ve missed it. 

Anyway, who’s next, the Scarlet Witch, a.k.a, the prettiest omega _in_ this place? Yeah, that sounds about like her luck. 

Darcy’s definitely gonna have to find herself a heat partner. No way she can handle a whole heat’s worth of “you could’ve asked _Captain America_ ” from her hormones. That’s just not happening. 

Honestly, it really is a shame she _couldn’t_ ask him. 

Well, whatever. The Avengers have a world to save, and she’s got a heat partner to find. She swings by her room to pick up her wallet and panic button and change into something a little less “lab chic”, which basically means putting on a tighter shirt and her favorite boots, and then heads out. She’s not actually in pre-heat or anything, she’s not crazy enough to go out like _that_ , but she’s not gonna wait to find a heat partner until the last second either. Way better to make a date with somebody, or if all else fails an appointment at the clinic. 

She really _doesn’t_ like heat-partnering total strangers, but hey, who knows, maybe she’ll meet somebody she hits it off with. 

Darcy heads into town and debates which bar she wants to hit up, but she really hasn’t _been_ in town that much yet and doesn’t know which way she should be leaning. She should’ve asked around, probably, but she didn’t think about it until now, so that’s too little too late. She could text somebody, except the only numbers she has are Jane’s and the emergency line, so that’s not gonna help either. 

Yet another ugh. 

This is dumb, she thinks to herself with a sigh as she dawdles indecisively on the sidewalk downtown, checking her phone just to check it. What, she’s gonna randomly trip over somebody she likes enough to share a heat with? She should just make an appointment at the clinic and deal with it. Not like she’s never done that in her life, after all. The clinic might kinda suck, but it’s gonna suck a hell of a lot less than going it alone when she’s already moody about heat-related shit. Like, really, she knows better. 

She checks her phone again as she turns resignedly towards the clinic, and a hand grips her shoulder. 

“Hey!” she says immediately, head snapping up as she instinctively goes for her taser before realizing it was just somebody keeping her from running into them. “Uh. Whoops. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” the somebody says. He’s an alpha, and a _big_ one. “My fault.” 

“Really not, dude, I’m the one who was walking blind,” Darcy says, tilting her head as she looks up at him. Oh, he smells _good_. Like, good even compared to the superheroes. And what a _face_ , too: that jaw looks like it was carved out of marble by a really thirsty Greek, and the way his long dark hair falls in his piercingly bright eyes is just . . . wow. Wowwww. 

Is this a gift from alien gods? Is that what this is? 

“Are you alright?” he says. He’s practically busting out of his shirt, he’s so built. 

She thinks this is a gift from alien gods, yeah. 

“I’m good, yeah,” she says, putting her phone away. “Hey, this is super forward of me, but what are you doing with the next hour of your life?” 

“What?” He blinks at her, and she flashes him a wicked grin. 

“I was thinking coffee, personally, if you didn’t have any other plans,” she says. “I’m open to alternative suggestions, though.” 

“Uh,” he says, looking taken aback. Darcy is used to the reaction, so isn’t offended. 

“Like I said, open to alternative suggestions,” she says easily. 

“Mm,” he says like he’s trying to figure something out, and then his eyes go a little heavy-lidded and out of nowhere his posture shifts into something _much_ more promising and Darcy reflexively perks up. Oh, awesome. “You like dancing, doll?” 

_Awesome_. 

“Love it, actually,” Darcy says with a wider grin. 

“Well . . . know a good place for that around here, then?” he says with a crooked smirk. 

“I can find one,” Darcy says firmly, pulling her phone out again. Yeah, okay, never mind her “not gonna trip over a heat partner” assumptions, she has _clearly_ just tripped over a great candidate for the position. 

And hey, he’s not even a superhero. Go her, she is _made_ of self-restraint. 

“Oh!” she remembers belatedly, looking up from her screen. “What’s your name, by the way?” 

“It’s Bucky,” he says. “What’s yours?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Surprise bonus round! Written for zephrbabe, who wanted more of this AU.

So Darcy goes dancing with a handsome stranger, which is a _delight_ , and more of a delight once she realizes Bucky has actual moves beyond the usual “wiggle vaguely to the beat while grinding on her” most alphas try to pretend counts as dancing. He _dips_ her. It’s awesome. 

They kiss in the alley out back of the bar after last call, which he is for the record amazing at, and then they go get coffee at a little late-night diner and split a breakfast platter between them. He pays in crumpled bills and grimy change and is, Darcy is pleased to note, a very good tipper. Nice. 

“No wallet?” she asks curiously, taking a sip of her freshly-refilled coffee. It’s basically tar, so her favorite kind. 

“No wallet,” he agrees with a shrug, putting away what’s left of his change. It’s not an explanation, but obviously he knows that so Darcy doesn’t push it. It does make her kinda wanna buy the guy a nice money clip or something, but since this is still technically the first time they’ve met buying him gifts would probably be moving a little fast. 

Not that that’s ever stopped her _before_ , but also nowhere else is open, so she’s kinda out of luck on that one anyway. 

“Thanks for paying,” she says. “And also the dancing. I liked the dancing.” Again: he _dipped_ her. “Didn’t expect you to have moves like those, I couldn’t even keep up.” 

“I used to dance a lot,” Bucky says, mouth quirking wryly, though Darcy’s not sure what he thinks is funny. 

“I can tell, you’re really good,” she says. “Seriously, you could get _paid_ for it.” 

“I did, once or twice,” he says. 

“Really?” She perks up curiously. “What for?” 

“I used to do ballet,” he says vaguely, which sounds _awesome_ and Darcy wants to hear _everything_ about. 

“Where?” she asks. 

“In Russia,” he says. “Mostly.” 

“Oh, you’re Russian?” she says, surprised. He doesn’t have any trace of a Russian accent at all—he sounds more like a New Yorker, actually. 

“I was just there for a while,” he says with a shrug. “What about you? You a local, doll?” 

“No, I’m new around here too,” she says, shaking her head before taking another sip of coffee. She really likes how he calls her “doll”, she decides. “I live a bit out of town with my boss.” Probably “I live with the Avengers in their semi-secret superhero base” is a _bit_ much to lead with. Also, like, he has no reason to believe that, so vagueness is her friend here, at least for the moment. 

“Guess I should’ve figured that when you had to look up a bar,” he says. “Your boss?” 

“Jane,” she says. “She does, like, science. I’m sort of her intern.” 

“What kind of science?” he asks, looking surprisingly interested. Usually people’s eyes glaze over when the science stuff comes up. 

“Astrophysics,” she says. 

“You’re an astrophysicist?” 

“Haha, _no_ , I just work for one,” Darcy says with a snort, although it’s kind of flattering he thought she was. Mostly people just give her a disbelieving look. “I transcribe her notes and help her carry the heavy stuff. Also I make sure she eats and sleeps and sees other human beings on the regular.” 

Well, mostly human beings. Thor is kind of his own category there. 

“I’m basically her babysitter,” she continues with an expansive shrug. “Jane’s freaking _brilliant_ but she wouldn’t know when to eat dinner if her life depended on it.” 

“Oh, yeah,” Bucky says, expression turning wry again. “That type.” 

“Type?” she asks, cocking her head. 

“I have a . . . friend who’s a little like that,” he says, a little slowly. “Smart as hell and doesn’t know when to walk away from a fight for the life of him. Drives me up the wall.” 

“I feel that,” Darcy says feelingly, clinking their coffee cups together. “So what are you in town for, anyway, I don’t think I asked while you were literally sweeping me off my feet. Also, how _long_ are you in town for. No reason or ulterior motives for that question.” 

“That sounds like you have ulterior motives, doll,” he says with that crooked smirk she’s really getting to like the sight of. 

“I _may_ need a heat partner this weekend,” she says, because what, she’s gonna waste time beating around the bush? “And if you’re free, well . . . we’ve hit it off pretty well, I think. If we’re, you know, _compatible_ , I might have a favor to ask.” 

“This a proposition?” Bucky asks, still smirking. 

“Oh, definitely,” she says, smirking back. “I mean, we should absolutely give it a shot, if nothing else.” 

“I like the sound of that,” he says, hooking an ankle around hers under the table in a way that makes her stomach feel like a bunch of butterflies just hatched in it. Like, Asgardian-sized butterflies. 

Sweet, she thinks. 

“Sweet,” she says. “Motel?” 

“Motel,” Bucky confirms, which is good. She doesn’t know him _quite_ well enough to want to go back to his den just yet and hers teeeechnically requires security clearance to get into, so a motel’ll be a lot quicker. She already wants to climb him, like, _yesterday_. 

“Got a safe word?” she asks, because if he’s going to have a dealbreaker up his sleeve better to find it out now. 

“Uh . . .” he says, looking briefly awkward. “It’s been a while, so not really. What’s yours?” 

“I use red, yellow, green,” she says. “That work for you?” 

“Yeah, that works for me,” he agrees, which is good. She wonders how it’s been long enough that he doesn’t have a _safe_ word on hand, considering this alpha is built like he was personally handed down from God’s own art studio, but she doesn’t think he’s lying so apparently the rest of the world has terrible taste. “Hard nos?” 

“No humiliation, no scat or watersports, no bloodplay or any injuries past, like, hickies. And maybe a spanking. Not above spanking,” she says, taking another sip of coffee. “Yours?” 

“I don’t want to pretend to be someone else,” he says, which is not a hard limit that Darcy’s heard before. Huh. 

“Okay,” she says, because she’s rolled with way weirder than that. “Not really into roleplay anyway, honestly, I never was that good at it.” 

“Okay,” he says, looking at her intently. She finishes off her coffee. 

“What about what you like?” she asks, and he . . . blinks. 

“It’s . . . been a while,” he repeats slowly. She represses a frown. Okay, that is a _damn_ long while. 

“Are you, like, okay?” she says. “To do this, I mean. Not gonna hold it against you if you’re not.” 

“Yeah,” he says, giving her that intent look again and putting off some _real_ delicious pheromones. “I’m okay.” 

Well, never let it be said Darcy turned down a gift from alien gods. 

“Killer,” she says, setting aside her empty mug. He gets to his feet and offers her a gloved hand, all nice and gentlemanly, and she takes it with a smile. 

“I don’t want to take my clothes off, either,” he tells her as she stands up, and she tilts her head curiously. 

“Well, that’s a shame, but okay,” she says. 

“I have—scars,” he says, grimacing faintly. 

“No, it’s cool, you don’t have to explain,” she reassures him, squeezing his hand. “I get it.” 

“Okay,” he says, and they walk out of the diner hand-in-hand, which is really nice, actually, and Darcy is gonna enjoy for as long as possible. She looks up the local motels with her free hand and finds one within both reasonable walking distance and price range, which is also pretty nice, and they make their way there. 

“For the record, I am very glad you said yes,” she says, squeezing Bucky’s hand. He gives her a funny little almost-tentative smile, like he’s not too used to smiling or something, which is an _injustice_ , not in the least because it’s gorgeous on him. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Me too.” 

“Cool,” she says, and they rent a little room and head inside. Darcy immediately rolls across the bed to scent it, because _obviously_ , and Bucky . . . sweeps for bugs, actually, it looks like, which is not something Darcy knew how to recognize before moving to the Avengers complex but is pretty hard to miss all the same. 

Huh. 

Well, maybe he’s military, or ex-military. Would definitely explain where he got scars bad enough that he’s worried about her seeing them. As long as he’s not _HYDRA_ it’s fine, she figures, and HYDRA’s more the type to _plant_ bugs than to have to worry about them. 

Fucking HYDRA. 

“Hey,” she says, and he comes over and she tugs him down onto the bed with her so she can kiss him again, which, again, he is amazing at. Seriously, she could kiss this alpha for a _week_. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, and gently pushes her down against the mattress. He is _heavy_. She kind of loves it. 

“You know, you’re pretty awesome,” she says with a wicked grin, looping her arms around his neck and then kissing him again. He pushes a hand up her side and she barely resists the urge to grab it and pull it to her breast. She can be patient, really. Bucky hasn’t done this in a while; they should take their time and make sure it’s good for him. 

Also, like, she doesn’t wanna accidentally get him to blow his knot early. That’d be a serious waste. 

“Look who’s talking, doll,” Bucky says, and Darcy laughs happily and kisses him again. This is technically to figure out if they’re compatible enough to share a heat together, but honestly, she kind of feels like she already knows the answer to that question. Not that she’s gonna miss this golden opportunity to get her hands all over this incredibly attractive alpha, of course. She is _way_ smarter than that. 

“C’mere and tell me what you like, alpha,” she purrs, and relishes the soft little smile that he gives her in reply, beautiful and sweet and barely tentative at all. 

Yeah, forget the superheroes, she thinks. This was a way better idea.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> iread78 wanted more omega!Darcy, and who am I to deny them? 
> 
> Further chapters forthcoming. Also, big ol’ rating bump for this one, fair warning.

Bucky is heavy and gentle and kind of wonderful, and Darcy loves his weight on top of her and his hands on her body, even if he apparently doesn’t want to take even his gloves off. Little weird, but she’s dealt with weirder. Also: scars. She is not gonna blame him for wanting to hide those, even though she has a really hard time believing that whatever they look like is _that_ upsetting. 

Upsetting to her, she means, obviously. If they’re upsetting to Bucky, that’s a whole other thing. 

“Oh, I like that,” she says with a happy sigh as he strokes her sides. She wraps a leg around his waist and pulls down invitingly, and he takes the hint and grinds their hips together. Darcy bites her lip with a stifled little keen of pleasure, and Bucky breathes out shakily. She can feel his cock through his jeans, and it feels _very_ promising. Someone’s a big boy. Size of the boat and motion of the ocean aside, she’s not gonna pretend like that doesn’t turn her on. 

Bucky kisses her brutally gently, and she noises contentedly into it and rubs up into him again. He’s already got her wetter than her last three not-in-heat partners and he hasn’t even gotten under her clothes yet: just his pheromones and his closeness are enough. No offense to previous contenders, but _oh_ , she likes that. 

He seems to want to take things slow, and Darcy doesn’t mind that. Especially doesn’t mind it because the way he kisses her mouth and jaw and throat so carefully makes her feel fucking _cherished_ , which is not a thing Darcy is used to feeling and is definitely not going to complain about getting. If Bucky’s going to appreciate her, she is _definitely_ going to appreciate him. 

Like, biblically appreciate. 

Darcy’s not the type to get treated that way in bed, that’s all. She’s just not that delicate, emotionally speaking, so people don’t handle her delicately. She likes that, usually, but getting touched like she’s something fragile is kind of novel, honestly. Doesn’t mean she doesn’t want to ride this alpha like it’s going out of style, but she can still enjoy the experience. 

“Can I put my hands under your clothes, or is that a no-no too?” she asks, pushing them up his chest. 

“That’s—fine,” he says after a moment, licking his lips. “Just . . . not too high.” 

“Gotcha.” Darcy kisses him again and drops her hands to slip under his shirt. Ribs and stomach area it is. She can do that. 

She doesn’t feel any scars, but she’s assuming they’re, well, higher up. Seems logical and all. Bucky hisses softly as she drags her nails, so she does it again. Not too rough or anything, but not quite soft either. 

“Good alpha,” she says, smiling against his mouth. “How about your pants? Can I get in there?” 

“Mm.” He breaks off the kiss and hides his face against her neck, then nods clumsily. Darcy purrs and pushes her hands down the back of his jeans to squeeze his ass without any restrictive denim in the way. It is _delightful_. Bucky responds by grinding down harder against her and muffling a groan in her shoulder. 

He really is heavy. Has she mentioned how great that is? 

“ _Very_ good alpha,” she says, pressing a kiss behind his ear. 

“Omega,” he says softly, and she _purrs_. 

“Here, hang on,” she says just a little bit breathlessly, letting go of him just long enough to strip off her shirt and overshirt and toss them off the bed where they can go be not in the way. Bucky immediately puts his nose in her throat and bites down gently on her collarbone, and she puts a hand in his hair and tugs lightly, rolling her hips up into his. He groans again. 

He’s definitely hard, which can’t feel particularly good in jeans, Darcy’s fairly sure, but he doesn’t make any move to pull his cock out. Kind of a shame, but she’s willing to wait for a good thing. She just rubs against him again and unzips her own jeans, which are _very_ in the way. He moves back to help her out of them all gentlemanly and sweet, and she grins down at him. 

“Gonna give an omega ideas, you’re not careful,” she says teasingly, pushing a foot up his thigh. He looks back at her with the fucking _softest_ look on his face and drops a kiss against her stomach, which immediately gets all Asgardian butterflies fluttery inside. 

Well, if he’s gonna call her bluff . . . 

“Definitely giving me ideas,” she says, biting her lip around another grin. Bucky hooks his fingers in the sides of her half-soaked panties and pulls them down, and she lifts her hips to help the process along. She wants his knot _bad_ , but his mouth is a great compromise, by which she means no compromise at all, she is all for that. “Color?” she asks, just to check in. 

“Green,” he murmurs, then kisses her stomach again and mouths down it, sliding his hands up her thighs. Darcy is definitely smitten. “You’re so pretty, doll.” 

“Well, I’m okay,” she says casually, hooking a leg over his shoulder because she is not remotely subtle and is never gonna be. He wraps a hand around it and squeezes, and oh man, he has _big_ hands, doesn’t he. She is definitely noticing just how big those hands are. “ _You’re_ fucking gorgeous.” 

“You don’t have to say that,” Bucky says, shaking his head once and then, delightfully, pulling a glove off with his teeth so he can rub a thumb against her folds just right. Darcy purrs again and tightens the leg over his shoulder, and he goes down and _licks_ her. She feels an immediate rush of slick and he licks it all up so nice and tidy that her thighs start quaking, just a bit. 

“Oh, I definitely have to say that,” she breathes. “Also, I need your tongue in me, like, yesterday.” 

“Yeah,” Bucky says, his eyes going warm and dark, and he absolutely arranges that for her. She moans, fisting her hands in his hair and digging her heels into his back and the bed, and he eats her out like she can’t even think of an appropriate comparison for because holy _shit_ is he eager, and holy _shit_ is he _good_. 

“Oh, oh, _oh_ ,” Darcy gasps out, and Bucky curls his tongue inside her and she lets out a shocky little keen. He rumbles low in his throat, pushing his thumb across her clit, and she keens louder. He is, apparently, one of those alphas who likes to make sure the omega comes first. 

Darcy has _no_ problem with that. 

He eats her out until her toes curl, until she’s fucking _soaking_ for him, and she comes all over his mouth with another loud keening cry. He rumbles again and licks her clean while she’s trying to catch her breath, which makes it impossible for her to catch her breath, and then mouths up her stomach. He’s hard, and Darcy is still shaking and wants him in her _now_. 

“Condom,” she says fervently, wriggling for her discarded pants to grab one out of her pocket. She’s obviously not getting knocked up out of heat, but they are kind of close to it and also, like, STDs and all. Admittedly she did just let him go down on her without a dental dam, which was not her _smartest_ move ever and she’s gonna kick herself over later, but still. 

“Okay,” he says. She comes up with a condom and holds it out to him, and he takes it from her and inspects it curiously, like it’s something new or something. 

“You do, like, use condoms, right?” Darcy says warily, a little come-stupid but not _that_ come-stupid. Not to insult him or anything but the look on his face _is_ kind of puzzled. 

“Not this kind,” he says, turning the little package over in his hands. 

“There’s other kinds?” Darcy asks, bemused. Huh. Learn something new every day. Maybe it’s a Russian thing. Well, whatever, she can handle that. “Here, I can put it on for you.” 

“Okay,” he says, and hands it back over. Darcy tears it open and unzips him and looks down at his very, very attractive cock as it falls into her hand, heavy and hard and so clearly _aching_ for some TLC, head slick with precome and knot already starting to swell, and she licks her lips without thinking, which—priorities, brain! Priorities! 

“Jesus,” she says, and rolls the condom on him. He grunts lowly and she can’t resist the urge to give him a couple of strokes, which he clearly deserves, and he groans. He really is a big boy, she was _not_ wrong about that. She’s not even sure she can take all that. 

She is _damn_ sure gonna give it the ol’ college intern try, though. 

“There we go, now we’re on track,” she says breathlessly, laying back again and spreading her thighs for him. It turns out he fits between them perfectly, to her delight. “Oh, you are _so_ good. Get inside me.” 

“Yes, omega,” he says roughly, and guides himself in with literally no other preamble. Darcy throws her head back on a sharp gasp as he pushes in, his big blunt head splitting her open _wide_ , and he rocks his hips testingly. “Color?” he asks carefully, looking down at her with that soft expression on his face again. 

“Oh, green. So green. Fuck me _now_ green,” Darcy demands, wrapping her arms around his neck and pushing up into him. He slips in a little deeper and she moans, and then he _thrusts_ in a little deeper and, well, never mind, _that’s_ a moan. “Ah! Ah, ah, yeah, c’mon, alpha, harder!” 

Bucky obliges, because he is again a gentleman, and a few thrusts later Darcy already feels like she could come again. She clings to him tightly, clawing at the back of his shirt and matching the pace of his hips the best she can, but he is very, very hard to keep up with. 

He’s still so fucking _careful_ about it, too, like he thinks he’s gonna break her or something. He’s definitely gonna bruise her, but she is all on board for that, personally. Like, she has her ticket right here and her baggage is checked and everything. 

“Holy shit,” she manages, then whines as she feels the tease of his knot bump against her and _not_ press in. “Hey, hey, come on, all the way, big boy, I can take it.” 

“Don’t wanna hurt you,” he says, rough and breathless and with a slight anxiety to it, and Darcy tugs his face down and kisses his mouth and jaw, because it is very hard to think straight with his big perfect dick in her but she can handle it, absolutely. 

“Doesn’t hurt,” she promises him, thighs squeezing his sides. “C’mon, alpha, fill me up good. I want your knot.” 

“Ngh,” he says, burying his face in her throat and getting a hand on her clit to rub against it. He thrusts again, this time a little deeper, and she feels herself stretching around his half-blown knot. It’s huge, and it doesn’t hurt at all, probably because she’s the wettest she’s ever been in her _life_. He slides right in all the way to the root, easy as anything, and she’s so full she could _scream_. 

So she screams, obviously, clutching up around him, and he rubs her clit again and again and his knot swells a little bit bigger inside her and she comes with a wail, hot and hoarse and _aching_. Bucky bites her shoulder and she jerks up into him, gasping for breath and choking on hoarse little mewls, which is the closest an alpha has ever come to getting her to shut up, like, _ever_ , which she will maybe tell him once she’s done shaking. 

“Color?” he asks. 

_“Green,”_ she gasps. 

Bucky pulls back, his knot stretching her again, and she watches him dizzily, brain a little too orgasm-stupid to figure out why he’s pulling away until he’s already thrusting back into her and oh, yeah, right. Right. 

_Fuck_. 

His cock fits her perfectly, his knot fills her up just right, he’s so big and heavy and brutally gentle, a big strong alpha who fucking _cherishes_ her, and she’s still shaking and clawing at him, still can’t stop wailing as he slides home again and again and _again_ and—oh, oh, _oh_ —

She’s definitely going to come again. 

His knot swells up bigger inside her, too big to keep thrusting, and she keens desperately as it fills her up even more than she’d thought was possible, and then even more than that, and she comes on it without even trying, shrieking his name over and over again. He gasps hers, and it’s the best it’s ever sounded. 

Bucky comes and Darcy clutches up to lock him tight inside her, and his arms shake so hard they nearly give out. She wants them to; she wants him to fucking _crush_ her. 

He kisses her again instead, and that’s pretty great too.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another installment, as promised; again you may all thank iread78 at your leisure.

Darcy wakes up in a tangle of motel room sheets with Bucky, who’s wrapped around her like a very sexy limpet and has his nose buried in the crook of her neck. She purrs, and he rumbles quietly in response, and of course after _that_ they have to go another round. 

Like, unavoidably. Obviously. 

She takes a shower, then Bucky takes a very _quick_ shower with the door closed, and while she’s still towel-drying her hair the best she can, he starts sweeping the room again. Presumably he’s not looking for bugs this time, so she can only assume he’s making sure neither of them’s leaving anything identifying behind. They didn’t really _bring_ anything identifying, so she’s not sure how they could, but she’s not a paranoid presumable-former-soldier so she’s not gonna judge. Darcy’s met people with way worse hang-ups than needing to occasionally search a room, some of whom were trying to kill her, and if she didn’t blame _them_ she’s sure as shit not blaming Bucky. 

Okay, she’d sort of blamed Loki. But, like. _Loki_. There is a not very fine line between understandable daddy issues and trying to burn down the world while _threatening Jane_ , and Loki’d freaking long-jumped across it. 

Sue her, she has biases. Big ol’ biases. 

Anyway there’s a reason they don’t talk about Loki anymore. A thousand years of brotherhood is a big thing to get over, especially when said brother goes and dies on you. But right now Darcy’s got an alpha who is totally unrelated to anybody’s superhero angst to make a heat date with, so yeah: not blaming Bucky for any weird little habits, and not worrying about him sweeping the room once or twice. 

“Ready to go?” she asks, and Bucky looks up from checking under the bed and nods. “Cool.” 

They make their heat date and then he walks her out of the motel, which Darcy appreciates. She’s got a taser, obviously, she doesn’t need anybody walking her anywhere, but it’s nice to spend a little extra time with him. He holds her hand, even, which is _really_ nice, even if his gloves tragically keep the scent glands in their wrists from rubbing together. 

“This was really nice, by the way, if I didn’t mention that yet,” she says after they check out, and he opens his mouth to reply and her phone starts ringing. “Oops. Sorry, one sec.” 

She tugs her phone out and peers at the screen—talk about a low battery, whoops—and it’s Jane calling. Presumably she’s wondering where Darcy actually _is_ , since they don’t technically have an official start time for work but it’s definitely later than she usually hits the lab. 

“Yo,” she greets as she answers the call. “What’s up, boss?” 

“Darcy!” Jane sounds relieved. “Where are you?!” 

“In town,” Darcy says, lightly swinging the hand Bucky’s holding. He squeezes it, which feels nice even with the glove in the way. “Why, you need something?” 

“You need to get somewhere safe,” Jane says. “Don’t try to come back to the complex.” 

“What?” Darcy blinks, stopping in her tracks. Uh-oh. Well, that sounds bad. “What are you talking about?” 

“We got a package at the lab,” Jane says. “It blew up and injured a tech.” 

“What?!” Darcy demands. “Are you okay?!” 

“I’m fine, I wasn’t anywhere near it,” Jane says. “He’s in the Cradle, though.” 

“Shit,” Darcy says, because she knows extremely little about the Cradle except that the Cradle means it was _bad_. Especially the Cradle means it was bad if it takes more than thirty seconds in the damn thing. “I’m coming back.” 

“The whole place is locked down,” Jane says. “They’re not letting anybody in or out.” 

“Of course it is,” Darcy mutters. “Who did it?” 

“The return address unfortunately did not include a confession,” Jane says. “Just find someplace to hunker down for a bit, okay? Whoever did it might still be in the area and we don’t know what else they might be planning.” 

“Greeeeat,” Darcy says. “Super fun.” 

“Text me when you find a place, I’ll send someone to get you as soon as I can,” Jane promises. 

“Yeah, okay,” Darcy sighs. “Be safe, alright?” 

“ _You_ be safe,” Jane says, and they say their goodbyes and hang up. Darcy gives Bucky a sheepish look. 

“Someone sent you a bomb?” he asks, looking a bit alarmed. 

“I mean, not me _specifically_ ,” Darcy says with a wince. She assumes Jane would’ve mentioned that, for one thing. “I, uh . . . work with interesting people?” 

“That’s a word,” he says warily. 

“It’s cool, they’ll send security for me,” she says. “Just gotta, you know . . . chill somewhere for a couple hours.” 

“I’m staying with you,” he says, then winces too and corrects—”Do you want me to stay with you?” 

“. . . I mean, I’m not gonna complain if you _do_ ,” Darcy says, putting her phone against her cheek. The situation sucks and all, but she’s not gonna protest a sweet and handsome alpha fretting over her. “You sure, though? I really will be fine, I don’t wanna take up your whole morning.” 

“You can take up the whole damn day, doll,” he says, which makes her stomach do that fluttery Asgardian butterfly move again. 

Well. Again, she’s not gonna protest. 

“Okay,” she says. “Um . . . coffee, then?” 

“Sure,” he says, and they go to the nearest cafe, which is unfortunately a Starbucks but _is_ nice and public and in the center of town. Darcy texts Jane the address, Jane texts back an affirmative, and they head in to have a drink. Bucky seems bemused by the menu, and in the end she orders for him. 

Possibly she should’ve gone with, like, plain old coffee, but a frappuccino sounds _way_ tastier sooooo . . . 

“What the hell,” Bucky says, staring in mystification at his. There is, admittedly, probably an unnecessary amount of whipped cream on top. 

“Don’t worry, it’s good,” Darcy promises, taking a sip of her own. 

“Why is there ice in the coffee, Darcy,” Bucky says. “Why is there whipped _cream_ in the coffee?” 

“Because Starbucks is an affront to God, mostly,” she says, unable to repress a grin. He’s adorable. “But like I said, it’s good. Try it.” 

He takes a sip and makes a face. She tries not to giggle. 

“Well?” she asks. 

“This is the weirdest thing I have ever put in my mouth,” he says before taking another sip, and she laughs. They go get a little table and settle in—Bucky, unsurprisingly, sits where he can see both doors—and they linger over their drinks while Darcy waits for whatever security guy or gal is gonna show up and take her back to the complex. It’s nice, or it would be if someone hadn’t had to get partially blown up for it. 

She really hopes that guy’s okay. This is all a little alarming, honestly. Darcy isn’t the worrying type, usually, but “the place that you are currently living and working just got mailed a bomb” she thinks would be worrying for even the most chill person on the planet. Like . . . seriously worrying. 

She tries not to think about it. Nothing she can do right now but hurry up and wait. 

“I’ll call you about this weekend, okay?” she says. “In case I have to spend it on lockdown.” 

“That sounds miserable,” he says. 

“Oh, it would definitely be,” she says. “So hopefully that’s not gonna be a thing. But if it is, what are your feelings on me calling you after?” 

“Why would you need an alpha after your heat’s over?” he says, looking puzzled. She snickers. 

“I’m saying I’d be asking you out, dork,” she says, and he blinks. 

“Oh,” he says, then grimaces a little. “Honestly, that sounds really nice, but . . .” 

“Uh-oh,” Darcy says. 

“I’m not staying in town that long,” Bucky says, and she makes a disappointed noise. 

“Boo,” she says. “Where are you going?” 

“Just . . . going,” he says a little awkwardly. “Can’t stop moving right now.” 

“Okay,” she says. Yeah, she’s still betting on “ex-soldier”. Stop moving and it all catches up. “Well, you’ve got my number, so if you ever wanna talk . . .” 

“About what?” he says, frowning in confusion. 

“Well, I’m open to phone sex but I just meant talk in general,” she says teasingly, mouth quirking in amusement. “You’re pretty great, and I think we get along pretty good. No reason to ditch a good thing, right?” 

“. . . right,” he says slowly, like no one’s ever called him a “good thing” in his life. Darcy seriously doubts the wisdom of the rest of the world. Like, for real. “That’s—okay. Yeah.” 

“Cool,” Darcy says, taking another sip of her drink. Bucky still looks a little bemused, but when she smiles at him his expression goes soft and he smiles back, which is pretty nice. She’s thought it before, but he’s got a _gorgeous_ smile. She’s already very fond of it and is definitely going to miss it when it’s gone. 

She could ask him stuff about his life and his family and his job, probably, but it’s nice just sitting here together, honestly, and she doesn’t feel a ton of need to fill the silence. Which is saying something, for her, because frankly silence is the _worst_ and Darcy _hates_ it, but watching Bucky drink his frappucino and just quietly exist for a while is sort of . . . awesome, really. She likes it. 

Well, so far she likes basically everything about this alpha, so no surprise there, she guesses. 

Anyway, he seems like he could use some peace and quiet in his life. 

"Thanks for doing this," she does say eventually, because she can only be so quiet for so long no matter what. She gives him another sheepish smile. "I do feel better not waiting alone." 

"No problem, doll," he says, smiling back at her very, very attractively. "Best use of my time I could've come up with." 

She laughs a little and hooks her ankle around one of his under the table. He really is _so_ great. It's a total loss that he's not sticking around. 

"You sure know how to sweet-talk an omega, don't you," she says, and he shrugs lightly. 

"Is it sweet talk if I mean it?" he asks. 

"Maybe not, but _that_ definitely was," she says with another laugh, and he gives her a crooked smirk. Serious panty-dropper, that expression. She's very fond of it. 

Too bad they can't sneak off and make time again, but she did promise Jane she'd be someplace safe and accessible, so that kinda rules that out. Security's gonna show up sooner or later and Jane doesn't need the stress of her being MIA right now. 

"You're a total flirt, alpha," she teases, reaching out to catch his right hand. He's been keeping the left one away from her, plus that's the one he never took the glove off of last night, so she figures he doesn't want it held for whatever reason. 

"I'll be anything you want," he tells her softly, and she can't help smiling again. The front door opens across the store, the little bell over it tinkling. Darcy glances towards it reflexively, and immediately chokes on her frappuccino. 

That is _not_ security. 

"Are you kidding me?" she says incredulously, staring at _Captain fucking America_ in full red, white, and blue, and he stares—

Just past her, actually. 

Bucky's hand tenses in hers. Darcy gets a weird feeling that she really hopes is not impending doom and really, _really_ hopes that she isn't holding hands with an international terrorist or Asgardian criminal or HYDRA plant right now. 

“Bucky,” Captain America says roughly, taking a step forward. 

"Fuck," Bucky says, looking panicked, and then he drops Darcy’s hand and bolts straight out the back door. Captain America runs past her and nearly knocks over the table. 

"Stay there!" he says, and Darcy makes an incredulous noise. He's joking, right? What, he thinks she's gonna _follow_ him? Into a hostage situation, probably? Yeah, _no_. 

Captain America blows out the back door without so much as glancing back and Darcy . . . Darcy is left with two half-empty frappuccinos and _so_ many questions, and also still that weird feeling that she can't quite place. 

. . . wait. 

His name is _Bucky_. 

. . . she’s got to be crazy, right? 

"You alright, miss?" someone asks, stepping, like, rudely close to her. Darcy barely even glances at them. 

"I'm fine," she says. "No sweat." 

Something hard presses into the side of her ribs, and she blinks. 

"Excuse you?" she says, genuinely offended. 

"Don't scream," the someone says pleasantly. He's a completely unassuming beta wearing round glasses and a very neat suit, and he's gripping her arm and pressing a very small derringer into her side. "Come along, Ms. Lewis." 

"Yeah, no, you can just shoot me," Darcy says, as someone who knows way better than to make it any kind of easy for someone to move her to a secondary location, gun or no. The beta narrows his eyes at her, and she is very aware that she is, in fact, about to get shot. 

Well . . . better than being a hostage, she thinks. Or getting tortured for information. Or whatever exactly this dude is trying to do with her. 

"Now, now. Don't make me do something we'll both regret," the beta says mildly as he jams the derringer deeper into her side, enough so it hurts; enough so it'll probably _bruise_. She grits her teeth. Probably screaming wouldn't help right now but she is _very_ tempted all the same. Probably she should've screamed the second the guy touched her, in fact. 

Hindsight and twenty-twenty, she figures, digging her heels in as he starts dragging her towards the front door. For the record, he is a lot stronger than such an unassuming frame suggests. 

"Die in a fire," she suggests politely, and goes dead-weight limp. The beta curses as he loses his grip on her and she falls out of his arms and hits the floor on her back. She whips out her taser and jabs it into his fucking _crotch_. 

Look, she can only reach so many places from the floor. 

The beta goes down with a scream, dropping his derringer, and a few other customers shout in alarm. The front door slams open, and a pair of unfamiliar alphas in black tac gear bust into the store. Darcy rolls to the side, kicks the beta's derringer across the floor, and then scrambles for the back door, slamming her panic button as she does. Superhero time, please. Superhero time as _fuck_. 

In retrospect, maybe she should've just asked Captain America to leave the free world to fend for itself for a few days. 

Stupid as it is, though, that's not the name she shrieks as she runs out the door. 

_"BUCKY!"_


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One last chapter you can thank iread78 for. I assumed this was gonna be the last chapter altogether but turns out I was wrooooong. Not sure how much longer the story’s gonna be from here, so we’ll just have to see, I guess.

Darcy makes it out the back door with those two tac gear-wearing alphas hot on her heels, really wishing that she were more of a runner or at least had longer legs or a bigger taser or _something_. Unfortunately, none of those things are a thing, so the best she’s got is running as fast as she can and hoping somebody with superpowers heard her scream. 

Not exactly a stacked deck, there. 

She runs past the outdoor seating and down the sidewalk, trying not to panic but very, _very_ much freaking out. This is bad. This is so bad. There's at least two guys on her tail, she has no idea where Bucky and Cap are, and her lungs are already burning. 

The unmarked black van that pulls onto the sidewalk directly in front of her is just the cherry on the shit sundae, really. 

She manages to stop before she barrels directly into the thing, but that's not actually a good thing. The side door slides open to reveal another alpha in black tac gear, and two pairs of big, heavy hands grab her from behind. 

She screams, obviously. It's about all she can do, aside from kick the new alpha as he reaches out to grab her. The other two alphas lift her right off her feet and throw her into the van past him, and she hits her head on the floor. 

"Fuck!" she yells. 

The door slams shut and the van peels out. Darcy manages to get into a sitting position and fumbles for her taser. The new alpha grabs her arm before she can get a grip on it, and it goes skittering across the floor of the van. 

Well, shit. 

"Wow, you are gonna regret this," she says. "Like . . . it is so gonna be hammer time after this." 

"An interesting threat considering that Thor is off-world, Ms. Lewis," a familiar voice says, and she looks to the passenger seat to find the beta from the store sitting in it. He doesn't look particularly pleased, and he's definitely not as neatly put-together as he was before. 

Good. She hopes his dick falls off. 

"Yeah, you comfort yourself with that temporary delay in getting your skull kicked in," she says. The beta gives her a pitying look. 

"And you think that'll do _you_ any good?" he says. 

"Not really, but I also have no idea why you picked me up," Darcy says, trying not to think too much about what he's implying. "Waaay more valuable targets out there than an intern, dude. Also, like . . . who even _are_ you?" 

"Hail HYDRA," the beta says pleasantly, folding his hands in his lap. 

"Of fucking course," Darcy mutters. Just had to be the gross Nazis, didn't it. 

"Search her," the beta says. "Make sure she's not armed." 

The alpha starts groping her. Darcy hisses angrily at him and slaps him across the face. 

She gets _punched_ across the face for it, which sucks. Like . . . ow. 

Seriously. Ow. 

The alpha finishes patting her down while she's reeling from the hit and comes up with her phone and the pepper spray on her keychain and pockets both. She hisses spitefully at him again, though it's probably not very impressive because there's blood dripping out of her mouth. 

"Asshole," she spits, because she never _can_ just be quiet, can she. 

Well, she is who she is. 

"Now, now, Ms. Lewis," the beta says. She wonders how he even knows her name. She really did not expect to be considered important enough for any bad guys to know her name. "If you cooperate, this will all go much more smoothly." 

"You really picked the wrong intern, man," Darcy says. It's fine, she tells herself. It's fine. 

"An omega this close to their heat?" the beta says with a smile, and Darcy reflexively bristles. "No, I think we chose quite well, in fact." 

"Again: hammer time," she says. 

"Oh, Ms. Lewis," the beta says sympathetically. "They're never going to find you." 

Wow, Darcy is not enjoying this experience. At all. 

The van starts slowing down for a stoplight. The doors are all locked, and there's a big-ass alpha between her and them anyway. But it's fine, Darcy reminds herself. It's fine. She has—

"Problem," the driver says sharply, and the beta frowns. 

"What—" he starts, and something slams into the back of the van with a metallic crunch. The doors buckle inwards at the locks, then fall open. Darcy lunges towards them; the alpha grabs her around the waist and yanks her back. She tries to kick him again and shrieks loudly, because it can't hurt to make a fucking racket, she figures. 

Something blurs through the open doors and hits the alpha in the face, then ricochets off him and the wall to hit the driver in the back of the head. The alpha drops Darcy with a cry of pain, and the beta curses. 

The something is Captain America's shield. 

Oh, thank _fuck_. 

Darcy lunges for the doors again, and a gloved hand grabs her outstretched arm and yanks her out of the van and into Captain America's arms. The beta in the passenger seat curses again, and Captain America throws them both to the ground just as a gunshot goes off. 

Darcy used to have trouble recognizing gunshots, but that is definitely no longer a problem in her life. Turns out they're pretty distinctive. 

"Oh, ow," she gasps, and Captain America rolls them to the side the second before the van backs up. Darcy seriously misses her taser. It wouldn't actually be useful right now, she just would really feel better if she were holding it, is all. 

"Run," Captain America says, then gets to his feet and throws himself into the back of the van. There's a lot of shouting. Darcy decides it's time to get the hell out of Dodge. Like, _yesterday_. She scrambles upright and bolts for the sidewalk, nearly tripping as she does. 

She is so, so grateful for the panic button right now. 

There's some more smashing and yelling from the van, and some people have their phones out and are recording whatever's going on in the back of it, but Darcy really does not care, Darcy just wants _away_ from the creepy beta with the gun. 

She also doesn't want those other two alphas showing up and spiriting her off around a corner, though, so she stays on the sidewalk amidst a cluster of rubberneckers, trying to catch her breath. Someone asks if she's okay, and she skirts away from them just in case they're another HYDRA asshole. 

"Fine," she says. "Very fine, all good, everything's fine." 

Yeah, she's not fine. 

Captain America steps out of the back of the van, shield in hand and expression grim. He walks over to her, and the crowd parts. 

"Darcy," Captain America says, holding out her phone and keys and taser. Darcy snatches them all up reflexively. 

"Thanks," she manages as she grips the taser tight. She was right; he does know her name. 

"I'm so sorry," Captain America says. "I shouldn't have left you alone." 

"Yeah, that was dumb," Darcy agrees. Her face still hurts. "Do you need to call . . . I dunno who you call about HYDRA, honestly. Presumably not the cops." 

"They're dead," he says. "Suicide pills." 

"Oh," Darcy says. She looks around the street. People are clustering closer, and she feels kind of like she's about to puke. "What were they _doing_? I am _so_ not a valuable target." 

"You're Dr. Foster's friend," Steve says, then hesitates. "And you smell like . . ." 

"Like what?!" Darcy demands, voice cracking a little. 

"Have you read any of the SHIELD data dump?" he asks her carefully. 

"What? No," she says. "I mean, besides the stuff about Jane and Thor, obviously. And Erik. And—did you know they had a file on me, those creeps? They knew my _grades_. Not okay." 

"Then it's a long story," Captain America says. "Can I take you back to the complex?" 

"Yes please," she says immediately. She wants to see Jane _yesterday_ , and wants to be behind Avengers-standard security doors even more than that. 

"Okay," he says, and he takes her back to the complex on the back of his bike. It doesn't really allow for conversation, so she doesn't get a chance to ask what he meant about the data dump or about what exactly happened with Bucky, or _anything_ about Bucky. 

Like if she maybe should've stopped and thought "hey, that's Captain America's dead best friend's name" at some point, for example. 

There are a lot fewer coincidences in her life than there used to be, these days. 

They get back to the complex. He helps her off the bike. She could ask him some stuff now, probably, but she really doesn't know where to start. 

"Is Bucky okay?" she asks finally. "Or is he, like, HYDRA and I shouldn't care." 

"He's not HYDRA," Captain America says, looking pained. "He's my friend." 

"And that would be why one look at you made him rabbit?" Darcy asks, a little skeptical. 

"It's . . . complicated," Captain America says. 

"Clearly." 

"Darcy!" Jane runs out into the garage and up to them, looking horrified. "What happened, the Falcon said you hit your panic button! What happened to your _face_?!" 

"I would love to explain but I think I'm missing some fairly important details," Darcy says. Jane hugs her. She slumps into it. Wow, that was . . . that was stressful. She is feeling very stressed right now. "I got punched by a Nazi. It sucked." 

"In _Starbucks_?!" 

"Not exactly," Darcy says, clinging to her a bit. She deserves it, she figures. "I met a really nice alpha, though. Very gentlemanly. Just, uh, kinda jumpy." 

"That's . . . good?" Jane says. 

"Yeah." Darcy debates telling Captain America that she has Bucky's phone number. She kind of feels like Bucky might rather she not do that, though, what with the running away thing and all. 

Seems that way, anyway. 

And not to focus on the irrelevant shit, but this is going to be the _worst_ heat. Her body is not gonna accept "we found an amazing alpha but he's on the run from Captain America". Like . . . definitely not. And oh, the big strong alpha who just rescued her from certain doom? Too busy protecting the free world to help an omega out. 

So yeah, definitely going to be a miserable heat. 

Ugh. Hasn't she suffered enough after this whole HYDRA thing? Seriously. 

"Do you need anything?" Captain America asks. Darcy wonders if she should call him "Steve", now that he's saved her life and all. Seems kinda weird though. Kinda like being on a first-name basis with Uncle Sam. 

"I'm cool," she says instead of "a pinch-hitter heat partner". "Thanks for saving me from the creepy tentacle-y clutches of HYDRA, I appreciate it." 

"HYDRA?!" Jane demands in horror. 

"I mean, I did say it was a Nazi," Darcy says with a shrug, gingerly touching her sore cheek. 

"Darcy!" 

Captain America walks them into the complex, and Jane walks Darcy to her den. Some fretting occurs. Darcy does not protest. Jane stays with her for a few hours, which is super nice of her, and eventually only leaves because Dr. Cho calls her about something going wrong in the lab. Darcy doesn't even wanna know what's going on in the lab that trumps "somebody tried to blow us up this morning", but assures Jane that she's fine, totally, she's okay. Jane promises to be back in an hour, which Darcy appreciates, and then rushes out smelling like stress and nerves. 

Darcy waits about five seconds, then texts Bucky. 

_It's Darcy. Totally lacking in star-spangled superheroes, promise. Also not trying to trace anything or whatever. You okay?_

She waits a while for a reply. No surprise there, really. She'd be more surprised to _get_ one, honestly, it's not like—

Her phone beeps. 

_I'm okay,_ he texts back. _Sorry._

Huh. Well, color her surprised. 

_Good start,_ she says. _You safe?_

_Yes._

_Good._

She ponders her phone for a while, debating what to say next, or if she should even say anything else at all. He's okay, assuming this is actually him texting her and not some evil HYDRA dude, so really, what else is there to say? 

_Did he tell you what I did?_ he texts before she can figure it out, and she blinks at her screen. Right. He has no idea what happened after he ran off. 

_No,_ she says. _But you should probably get out of town if you haven't already. There were HYDRA guys running around earlier. So, like, very not a safe place to be._

_What?_

_HYDRA guys,_ she repeats, though obviously he could just reread it. _My boss is kind of an Avengers affiliate. Also she's DATING an Avenger. They tried to swipe me._

The phone rings. It's him. 

Darcy answers, obviously. 

"Yo," she says. 

"Darcy," Bucky says roughly. Definitely not texting an evil HYDRA dude, then. Cool. "Are you okay?" 

"I'm good," she says, though if he were actually here in person she'd be tempted to cry on him a bit. She'd almost cried on Jane, so she's a bit overdue. "I tased one of them. Unfortunately there were _five_ of them, soooo. You know." 

"I'm sorry," he says. 

"It's cool, dude, I hit my panic button and Captain America showed up and took care of things," she says easily. "He's super good at beating up Nazis, though I guess you already know that." 

"Mn." 

"I guess you're probably pretty good at it too," she says. "But I would still leave town if I were you." 

"You're not hurt?" he asks, because he's an alpha so of course he's fixating on that. 

"Barely bruised," Darcy promises. 

_"Barely?"_

"Barely." She shrugs, although obviously he can't see it. "It's fine. Just a crime of opportunity, far as I can tell. I'm not exactly a high-value target." 

"You smelled like me," he says. 

". . . yeah, and?" She frowns. 

"He didn't tell you what I did." 

"Still a no on that," Darcy agrees. "Gonna assume it was bad?" 

"I killed people for them," Bucky says. "Lots of people." 

"For _HYDRA_?" Darcy says in disbelief. She's _got_ to be misunderstanding that. 

"Yes," he says, and, "I'm sorry." 

She opens her mouth, and he hangs up the phone. 

Well . . . fuck.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really did not anticipate writing more than five chapters for this fic but I am notorious for my stories growing, so really, is anyone surprised here?

Bucky doesn’t answer when Darcy calls back, and his voicemail isn’t set up. She tries three times and texts him four, but it’s all a no-go. 

So yeah, it’s definitely time to get into the SHIELD data dump. 

Darcy gets on her computer and starts hunting. The data dump’s been scrubbed from the internet more than once, but the internet doesn’t forget. It takes her the better part of the afternoon and evening—Jane comes in and brings her dinner, and Darcy acknowledges her with a distracted grunt but doesn’t look up from her screen—but eventually, she finds a picture, and after she finds the picture, well, then she just needs to find everything that goes _with_ the picture. 

It’s a really depressing picture, but not as depressing as the files that go with it. 

“Fuck,” Darcy says, rubbing at her eyes. It is way, way past evening now. 

“What is it?” Jane asks. 

“I slept with a century-old war hero POW,” Darcy says. “Which, believe me, if I had known, I would’ve pulled out all the stops for him. Like, so many stops.” 

“What?” Jane frowns, leaning over her shoulder. There’s another picture of Bucky on-screen, except it’s not Bucky, it’s _the asset_ strapped into a chair and about to have his brains fried out of his head. Darcy thinks she hates people. 

No, she definitely hates people. 

“He’s . . . an assassin?” Jane says doubtfully, scanning the window Darcy has open next to the picture. 

“He’s really sweet, actually,” Darcy says, then shakes her head. “Not that you’d know it from his kill list. Has anyone talked to Tony Stark about this, actually, I feel like someone should _really_ talk to Tony Stark about this.” 

“Why?” Jane asks. 

“Because according to this, HYDRA killed his parents,” Darcy says. 

_“What?”_

“You heard me.” Darcy opens another file. It’s mostly names and dates. Death dates, to be specific. Bucky was not exaggerating when he said “lots”. Like, not even a little bit, _Jesus_. 

Also, she recognizes some of these names from her poli-sci classes, which is pretty damn alarming. It is, she can’t help but notice, a lot of names that could’ve made the world a very, _very_ different place if they’d lived much longer. 

Shit. 

“They can’t have,” Jane says. “Someone would’ve found out by now. Someone would’ve said something about HYDRA killing the _Starks_.” 

“This shit is down the rabbit hole, Jane, I only found it because I’m specifically creeping on the guy who _did_ it,” Darcy says, shaking her head. “And they only call him ‘the asset’ in here. Hell, I had to cross-reference like four different files just to figure out the kill list _was_ a kill list. And I’m not even gonna tell you what it took to find it to begin with.” 

“I’m calling Pepper Potts,” Jane says, reaching for her phone. 

“Yeahhhh, maybe we should.” Darcy opens another file with a grimace. There’s a lot of stuff about the training in here, and it is very bad stuff. Also, involves a disturbing amount of talk about little girls and a . . . red room? The hell? “Ideally _before_ someone arrests Bucky Barnes for treason. Or tries to get him back in this chair. Not sure which would actually be worse in the long run, gonna be honest. Hey, is Cap still on base?” 

“Yes,” Jane says. “I saw him in the gym on my way over. He was, uh . . . murdering a punching bag, let’s say. With extreme prejudice.” 

“Yeah, I am not surprised,” Darcy says. “I’d say we should call _him_ but I have no idea how much of this shit he already knows. He must, right? Maybe he already told Stark.” 

“And we haven’t heard about it?” Jane says skeptically. “Tony Stark can’t keep his private address private when his life is being directly threatened, you think he wouldn’t burn down the _world_ going after the rest of HYDRA?” 

“Point,” Darcy says. “Let’s call Cap first.” 

They call Cap first. 

“I read the data dump,” Darcy tells him. “Also, hey, I know how Tony Stark’s parents died now.” 

“I’ll be right over,” Captain America says, and shows up less than five minutes later all sweaty and flushed and in his gym clothes. Normally Darcy would appreciate that sight and also the scent of his pheromones all riled up, especially a couple of days out from a heat, but normally she hasn’t recently learned all sorts of tragic and fucked up things and just how deep HYDRA’s creepy tentacles managed to get into, like, _everything_. 

“Did you know HYDRA did it?” she says. 

“It was . . . implied,” he says slowly. “I wasn’t sure, though.” 

“Well, I am.” Darcy shows him her computer screen. “There’s video.” 

“Hell,” Captain America mutters, covering his mouth with a hand. “And it was Bucky?” 

“I mean, as much as anything was Bucky in those days,” Darcy says with a helpless shrug. “Which is not very, I don’t think.” 

“Hell,” Captain America repeats. 

“You should probably talk to Tony Stark,” Darcy says. “Not gonna lie, though, I’m a little more worried about Bucky right now. Especially since just smelling a bit like him apparently made me interesting enough for HYDRA to try and snatch me. Especially since HYDRA was that _close_ to him. They tried to grab me right out of the building.” 

_“Hell.”_

“Yeahhh.” 

“We don’t know they knew he was in town,” Jane says. “Someone sent us that bomb, after all.” 

“Seems like a pretty good distraction from anything that might _happen_ in town,” Darcy says. “Like, you know, trying to nab a super-soldier from a public place.” 

Captain America paces. He smells really, really good, and also kind of like he’s about to put his shield through somebody’s face. He isn’t even _carrying_ his shield. 

“Just saying,” Darcy says. Probably inviting an upset alpha into her den two days out from her heat wasn’t the smartest thing she’s done all day. 

“Where did you find those files?” Captain America says. 

“Pretty deep in the dump,” she tells him. “Took some doing. I am very good with computers, though, and kind of a terrier.” 

“I need to find Bucky,” he says. “He doesn’t know they were in town.” 

“Yeah he does,” Darcy says, because Bucky’s privacy aside this is _kind_ of vital. “I told him.” 

“You—how?” Captain America says, then shakes his head. “Never mind. What did he say?” 

“He asked if I was hurt and told me he was sorry,” Darcy says. Captain America’s face softens; it looks a little bit like the way Bucky’s does. She guesses they’ve known each other long enough that that’d make sense. “So probably blaming himself for the whole mess, I’m gonna guess.” 

“Did he tell you where he was?” Captain America asks. Darcy shrugs. 

“Didn’t ask,” she says. “Didn’t think HYDRA thought they owned him at the time.” 

“It does seem like they were after him,” Jane says with a grimace. Captain America looks like he wants to throw up, which is not a look Darcy ever expected to see on Captain America but definitely empathizes with. “Can we find him, do you think?” 

“I’m going to,” Captain America says tightly, his hands curling into fists. 

“Kinda hoping we can’t,” Darcy says, setting her computer down on the coffee table. “‘Cause if we can, _they_ can, and they’ve got a head start.” 

“Try to get ahold of him again. Please,” Captain America says. “I’m going back to town.” 

“What if they follow _you_?” Darcy says. “You’re not exactly subtle, dude. No offense.” 

“I’m taking Natasha,” Captain America says, which—okay, fair. 

“That’ll work,” Darcy says, and he leaves. She looks at Jane. Jane looks at her. 

“What if he doesn’t answer?” Jane says. 

“Then I’m gonna worry about him like crazy, probably,” Darcy says. “And really, _really_ hope he’s not in the back of an unmarked van somewhere.” 

She texts again and hopes Bucky didn't just ditch his phone, which admittedly probably would've been the smart thing to do. He doesn't answer. She thinks about telling him Cap's coming looking for him but on the off chance HYDRA's either nabbed him or found the phone, she's gonna avoid that warning. Just . . . yeah, definitely avoiding that. 

Probably this is stupid. Bucky's been taking care of himself just fine, after all, no matter how close HYDRA got to him. They're being paranoid. Understandable, in Captain America's case; less so in hers. Maybe her biology just wants her alpha, given how close her heat is and all. 

He's not _even_ her alpha, but she wants him. 

It's dumb, probably, but . . . 

"No answer?" Jane says. 

"No answer," Darcy confirms with a sigh, just looking at her phone. She doesn’t know what to do here. Nothing, probably, but she doesn’t _feel_ like she should do nothing, she feels like she should tase some bastards and drag Bucky into her den and not let him out for a _month_. 

She really wants to be able to do something here. 

“I’m sure he’s fine,” Jane says. 

“No you’re not,” Darcy says. 

“No I’m not,” Jane admits. “But there’s nothing we can do. Captain Rogers is a lot likelier to find him than we are.” 

“Too bad we can’t just track a rainbow bridge this time,” Darcy says, and Jane lets out a soft laugh and reaches over to squeeze her knee. 

“I would if we could,” she says. “Do you want some privacy?” 

“Not really,” Darcy says. What she _wants_ is to build up a nice big nest to hide in, and ideally also hide her alpha in, but that’s not actually useful. 

She could read some more files, probably. Maybe that’ll tell her something. 

“Darcy . . .” Jane says as she opens another one. 

“Mm?” 

“What else are you going to find in there?” Jane says. 

“I don’t know,” Darcy says. “Something that could help him, maybe.” 

“Put it away,” Jane says gently. “There’s nothing you can do right now. You need to eat. And probably sleep, too.” 

“I am definitely not gonna be able to sleep,” Darcy says, though she grudgingly closes the computer. Jane’s not wrong; the only thing she’s finding in the data dump is more bad news. It’s all old information, and she needs the _new_ shit. There’s not anything she can dig up that Captain America and the Black Widow aren’t going to find first, though. She’s pretty good with computers and yeah, she’s a terrier, but she’s no Avenger. 

She still really wants to keep looking, mind. 

"Just try," Jane says, and they both go to bed. Darcy does try, but of course can't sleep. She keeps obsessively checking her phone, like Bucky will have changed his mind or something or she could possibly have missed a text or call. 

Early in the morning, she gets a text from a number she doesn't know. 

_It's Steve Rogers,_ it says. _Have you heard from him?_

Darcy looks at the screen for a moment, then calls the number. Captain America answers. 

"Is that a yes?" he asks. 

"More like I wanted to make sure it was actually you," Darcy says. "I tried. No answer." 

He sighs. He sounds like the whole world is on his shoulders, which she guesses a not insignificant portion of it is. 

"Okay," he says. "Thanks for trying." 

"Sorry," she says, thinking of that soft smile Bucky’d given her and that horrible picture of the asset strapped into a chair and how utterly, totally helpless to do anything useful she is right now. She looked some stuff up and learned some really unfortunate things and all it really accomplished was worrying _Captain America_. 

Well, hopefully HYDRA blew their shot on trying to grab her, and Bucky got the hell out while Cap was bashing them up. 

Hopefully there weren’t any other HYDRA types immediately in the area just waiting to snatch him up as soon as everyone else was distracted. 

_Please just tell me you’re okay,_ she texts, like an idiot. 

No response. 

Well . . . she didn’t expect different, really. 

Just wished. 

Darcy gives up on sleep and goes to the cafeteria and gets breakfast. It’s completely flavorless, which is probably not on the breakfast and actually on her current state of mind. She turns her phone over in her hand over and over, _wishing_ , and doesn’t know how to feel about any of this. Bucky can take care of himself; he’s a grown alpha with super-soldier abilities. Also apparently a super-strong metal arm, which pretty succinctly explains why he didn’t want to get undressed or hold her hand. 

But he also blames himself for shit he did when he was _brainwashed_ , and HYDRA is directly on his tail. 

Sue her, okay? She’s worried. She barely knows the guy, yeah, but she’d worry about a total stranger in this situation, to say nothing of an alpha whose knot she’s locked. Who knows what HYDRA would even do with him if they caught him? Put him back in that chair? Put him in a cell somewhere? Put a bullet in his head? 

The options are all bad options. 

Darcy just wants to be able to do something. Just . . . _something_. 

She turns her phone over in her hand again, her breakfast just as tasteless as before, and can’t think of a single damn thing.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It grows . . .

Darcy spends the day halfheartedly nesting. There’s not much else to do, and she might as well get it out of the way. She keeps her phone on the charger and close by and barely keeps herself from going through any more files. She’s tired and achy and her body’s getting ready for a lot of stress, and it makes it hard to process how she’s feeling. Her brain wants to know Bucky’s okay; her body wants him to show up and fuck her stupid. Neither desire is helpful. 

This heat is gonna _suck_ , not in the least because she’s probably going to have to settle down for it with no clue where or how Bucky even is. And she gets that that’s not a concern for him, all things considered, but she can’t help wishing that it were. Not that she blames him that it’s not. She also would not be worrying about somebody else’s cycle if she were getting chased by HYDRA. 

Also, somebody really needs to call Tony Stark, assuming Captain America hasn’t already. She should check on that. 

She really does feel awful, though. Achy and tired and weak, and her stomach’s cramping. She wants Bucky to show up so _bad_. Why isn’t he here, anyway? She wouldn’t tell anybody. There’s probably a way to sneak him in. Or she could sneak out and go see him, and he’d take care of her again and treat her right and touch her right where she—

. . . oh, great. 

Darcy picks up a nesting pillow and buries her face in it with a frustrated yell. Of course. Of _course_ her heat’s kicking in a day early. Why wouldn’t it! Why not! Might as well! 

She hates her body right now. 

She texts Jane so she knows, and also texts her about making sure somebody talks to Tony Stark while she’s thinking about it, then collapses in her half-done nest, deciding she really does not care anymore. Fuck it, it’s close enough. This heat’s going to be miserable no matter how nice her nest is, so who cares? 

Not like anyone else is going to see it. 

Darcy buries her face in a pillow again and hates _everything_. Just . . . all the things. Forever. 

This sucks. 

She wishes she’d just asked Cap or something, but he’d obviously had bigger concerns and it wasn’t like she’d wanted to _dissuade_ him from finding Bucky, either, and they still don’t know each other that well anyway, so it would’ve just been weird no matter what. And, again: someone probably does need to find Bucky. Not that he hasn’t been taking care of himself just fine, just . . . just . . . 

Just she doesn’t know. 

This is probably a hormonal thing, Darcy can’t help but suspect. She should’ve called in an appointment for the clinic, but the idea of leaving the safety of the compound right now actually sounds kind of terrifying—assuming anyone would even let her—so maybe that’s a no too, actually. So maybe she’s just screwed, and _not_ in the helpful way. 

Fuck. 

Fuck, fuck, _fuck_. 

Darcy hates spending heats alone. She really does. It’s just _miserable_ , every time, and she never, ever enjoys it, and heat is _definitely_ meant to be enjoyed. 

She drags a pillow over her head and thinks about crying, just on principle. She’s not quite upset enough to manage it, though, which is actually kind of upsetting too? Then again, so is _everything_ at the moment, so yeah, of course it is. She had a really good heat partner all lined up and then HYDRA just had to fucking blow it for her, didn’t they. 

Clitblocked by octo-Nazis. There’s a new one. 

Darcy hugs her pillow and mutters a few curses into it. It’s fine. It’s fine. She’s gotten through plenty of heats alone before, it’s not the end of the world just because she was kind of gone on Bucky and still can’t help thinking about him and if he’s okay and how fucking _good_ his knot felt filling her up and— _argh_. 

Yeah. This is gonna suck. 

Darcy throws the pillow across the room and buries herself in her blankets and tries not to think about . . . _anything_ , pretty much. Everything she could be thinking about is trying to circle back to the fact that if it weren’t for those HYDRA assholes and some real bad timing, right now she’d be getting ready to get railed by possibly the hottest alpha she’s ever met and his big warm hands and big fat _knot_. Railed and _cherished_ , even. Fucking cherished! 

Fuck HYDRA. Fuck them with a baseball bat full of _nails_. 

Bucky would take care of her. Bucky would touch her just how she wanted and just where she needed and be so gentle like he thought he could break her and so warm and strong and _good_ —

Darcy beats her head against the mattress a few times, then shoves herself upright and starts dragging off her clothes. Fine. Okay. Fine. Heat alone means heat’s gonna suck, but she can at least, like, get a nice warm bath and settle down a bit before it really kicks in, she’s got time for that. She’ll take a bath, she’ll finish her nest, she’ll dig out her toys, and—

Her phone rings. 

Darcy stops right in the middle of kicking off her jeans and nearly falls off the bed scrabbling for it. If someone’s calling right now it’s got to be Captain America and if Captain America’s calling it’s got to be about Bucky and if it’s about _Bucky_ —she doesn’t know, exactly, just she _has to know_. 

“Hello?!” she blurts, answering the phone without even checking the caller ID. There’s a beat of silence, then . . . 

“Darcy,” Bucky says quietly, and Darcy has to strangle a whimper before it can escape her throat. 

“Bucky,” she says, gripping her sheets with her free hand. She could ask why he’s calling, but . . . “Are you okay?” 

“Yes,” he says, which is hopefully not a lie. “I just—sorry. I shouldn’t have called.” 

“It’s fine!” Darcy blurts. “No, no, it’s fine! Don’t hang up!” 

“Sorry,” he says again. Darcy’s convinced he’s about to hang up anyway, but he doesn’t, which is a small mercy, at least. 

“It’s okay,” she says. “I, uh. I looked you up. In the SHIELD data dump. You could’ve, you know . . . _mentioned_ the brainwashing thing.” 

“It’s not an excuse,” he says. 

“It reaaaaally is, man,” Darcy says. “Like, I don’t think I’ve ever heard a better excuse than ‘brainwashing torture machine’.” 

“The machine just made me forget,” Bucky says. “It didn’t make me a different person.” 

“Yeah, and then they _lied_ to you,” Darcy says. “What did you know?” 

“How to kill people,” he says. 

“Bucky,” she says, fisting her hand tighter in the sheets. She really wants him here right now. She really wants to disappear him into her stupid half-built nest and not let anybody else _near_ him except maybe Cap, eventually. “It’s not your fault. And everybody they made you kill, they would’ve killed anyway.” 

“Maybe,” Bucky says. “Maybe they wouldn’t have pulled it off.” 

“Maybe,” Darcy says. She’s feeling kind of crazy with how bad she wants him here, here and touching her and scenting up her nest and being close, but this is _important_. She has to focus. Concentrate. Just . . . _something_. She’s a little heat-stupid and way too close to tipping over into it but she’s not an _idiot_. “But that’s not on you, either way. I mean . . . I don’t know what you were thinking, but you didn’t _want_ to kill those people, did you?” 

“Doesn’t matter,” he says. 

“So no,” she says. “Bucky . . .” 

“I just called to make sure you were okay,” he says. “That you—found somebody.” 

“Oh,” she realizes, her stomach tightening and a rush of heat going through her as she realizes what he means. He called because he was thinking about her heat, thinking about _her_ like the way a heat partner would, and wanted to know she was taken care of. Even with everything else going on with him, he still wanted to know that. 

She almost lies, honestly, but . . . 

“I didn’t,” she says. “Can’t really go to the heat clinic right now and there’s not really anybody I know too well in the complex.” 

“You should ask Steve,” Bucky says. “He’s a good alpha. He’d treat you right.” 

“While I am ten thousand percent sure that you are correct about that, he’s a little busy right now,” Darcy says, squirming slightly in place at the idea all the same. Sue her, Captain America is a handsome alpha. “Also it’s a little . . . uh, late.” 

“Late?” 

“I’m early,” she admits. “Already nested.” 

“Oh,” he says. 

“Yeah,” she says. “It’s okay. I’ve heated up alone plenty of times.” 

“I’m sorry,” he says tiredly. “It’s my fault.” 

“It is really not, dude,” Darcy says. “It’s cool, I have, you know . . . toys. And stuff.” Normally she wouldn’t hesitate saying that but normally she also wouldn’t be thinking about how achingly empty her cunt is and how very, very perfectly Bucky's cock could be filling it. It's really not a great time for that line of thought. Like . . . it's a terrible time for that line of thought, because it's just making her _want_ it. And also she has no idea if Bucky's anywhere safe or if she's ever going to see him again or . . . 

"Toys?" Bucky says. 

"Yeah," Darcy says, biting her lip painfully to keep herself from squirming again. She is suddenly very, very aware of the fact that she's only in her underwear. "You know, like sex toys?" 

"Oh," he says. "Oh! Uh." 

"Yeah," Darcy says, slightly mortified but thinking . . . well, it's probably a better topic than how guilty Bucky should feel about the shit HYDRA did to him. "So, you know, I'm fine. Don't worry about me." 

"It's . . ." Bucky trails off. 

"I'm fine," Darcy promises. "Really." 

"I should be helping you," he says, and Darcy _squirms_. 

"You've kind of got bigger priorities right now, dude," she manages to say like a normal and not-naked person. "I mean, believe me, if it were up to me we'd be nested down together and I'd be riding the ride, but, you know, you avoiding getting HYDRA-napped is kiiind of more important." 

Never mind that he'd be perfectly safe from that in her den, what with all the security and Avengers and so on around. She's just not gonna comment on that fact right now. Or ever. 

"I should still be helping you," he says. "You're alone because of me." 

"I care way more that you're somewhere safe," Darcy says. "Even if said somewhere is not with me." 

"Darcy," Bucky says, and God, she really does love the way he says her name. 

"Yeah," she says. He's silent for a moment, and then, slowly . . . 

"What kind of toys?" he asks. Darcy nearly bites through her lip. 

"Uh," she says. "Well, like . . . I've got a few little pocket vibes, and a couple plain ol' dildos. Um. A knotting vibrator. That was kinda expensive." 

"That do what it sounds like?" he asks. 

"Uh-huh," she manages. 

"How big is it?" he asks. 

"Kinda big," she hedges, glancing at the floor. Her box of toys is right under the bed. Nice and accessible. "Not, uh. Not as big as you." 

"Too bad," he says. Darcy really hopes she's reading this situation right. 

"Yeah," she says. "Definitely." 

"Where is it?" he says, his voice dropping a little lower and softer. Darcy squeezes her thighs together. 

"Under my bed," she says. 

"Mm. What’s it doing there, doll?" 

Darcy barely keeps in the reflexive whine. 

"Good question," she says a little weakly, already leaning over the side of the bed. The box is right where she left it, and when she pulls it out and opens it, the knotting vibrator is right on top. That is . . . _totally_ unfair, she thinks, and also super, super fucking promising. 

"You're in your nest, right?" he asks in that low, soft voice. Darcy nods like an idiot, then clears her throat. Man, she is _so_ much better at talking than this. 

"Yeah," she says. "I am." 

"Are you still dressed?" 

"I’m in my underwear." 

"What kind?" 

"Bra. Panties." She glances down at herself, biting her lip again. It's not exactly her sexiest heat outfit, but . . . well, he asked. "Black cotton." 

"I like black," he says, and Darcy has to swallow another would-be whine. Her alpha _likes_ it. She's very, very aware of how wet she's getting just listening to him talk. He hasn't even really said anything. He hasn't even used his _alpha_ voice. 

"Yeah?" she says a little lamely, shifting in place. Again: she is _so much_ better at talking than this. She just really did not expect him to, well . . . 

"I like you naked better," Bucky says, and Darcy bites her tongue. 

Yeah. Okay. Very promising, she thinks. 

"What color are you at?" he asks, and she almost laughs that he thinks he even has to ask, except it's really nice that he's thinking to. There's so much else going on with him, and he's still remembering to ask that kind of thing. 

It's really, really nice. 

"Green," she says fervently. "Super, super green. You?" 

"Green," he says. "Really, uh . . . really green." 

"Okay," Darcy says. 

"Okay," Bucky says, and, "Tell me more about your toys."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You can all thank zephrbabe for this chapter, plus the upcoming next two. Still no idea how long this fic’s gonna be in the end (shooting for finishing up in the next two chapters, but we’ll see) but this chapter and the events within were necessary, obviously. 
> 
> Took me a while to write this part ‘cuz I just couldn’t stay in the right headspace to get it right, but knock wood the next two installments should be quicker.

Darcy bites her lip again and looks down at her toybox, heat spiking low in her gut. She’s never had a partner ask her something like that before, ask her about her _toys_ , and it feels weirdly . . . not intimate, not intense, but _interesting_. 

“Which one?” she asks, running her fingers across the edge of the box. 

“Which one do you start with?” Bucky says. His voice is _so_ good, she thinks. 

“Depends,” she says. “When I’m by myself . . . I kinda like to get right to things, when I’m by myself. Especially for a heat, you know?” 

“No,” he says, the barest rumble in his voice. “Tell me about it.” 

“Oh, wow, tease much?” Darcy says lightly, heat sparking in her gut again. She wants him to use his alpha voice. She wants him to use his alpha voice so _bad_. “The knotting vibrator’s my favorite. I saved up for it.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah.” She picks it up; turns it over in her hands and checks the batteries. It really is big. 

It also really isn’t as big as Bucky. 

“It’s pink,” she says. “It’s got, like . . . settings.” 

“Settings?” he says. 

“Different speeds, pulses, strengths . . .” She shrugs even though he can’t see it, turning the vibrator over again. “Assuming it’s a little fancier than the ones in your day.” 

“Just a bit,” he snorts. “Can’t say I ever met an omega with a pink one before.” 

“It’s waterproof, too,” Darcy says. She rubs her thumb along the soft silicone head of the vibrator. “Which is super handy, for the record.” 

“Are you touching it?” he says. 

“Yeah,” she says, biting her lip. 

“How’s it feel?” 

“Nice,” she says. “It’s silicone, so . . . kinda soft and smooth? No hard edges or anything. Doesn’t really feel like a _cock_ , but, you know, next best thing.” 

“What about the knot?” he says, and she squirms in place, resisting the urge to touch . . . well, she’s not sure what. Just something. 

“It’s big,” she says, squeezing the knot gently between her fingers. It’s not inflated, obviously, so it’s soft and easy to press into. “It swells up when you press a button. You can adjust how fast it does.” 

“And it vibrates?” 

“Uh-huh,” Darcy manages. Wow, she really, _really_ wishes this were a hands-on demonstration. Like . . . she’s very much wishing that right now. 

“Turn it on. Lowest setting,” Bucky says. Darcy’s thumb is flicking the button before she even fully computes what he said. Jesus, you’d think he’d used his alpha voice or something. 

Or maybe she is just really, really easy for this particular alpha. 

The vibrator . . . well, vibrates. She wonders if he can hear it through the phone, and resists the urge to press it somewhere sensitive. 

“Okay,” she says, a little breathless. “It’s on.” 

“Where is it?” he says. 

“My hand?” she says. “It’s, uh. In my hand.” 

“You still wearing those panties?” he says. 

“Uh-huh,” Darcy breathes, squeezing her thighs together. 

“Take them off,” he says, and again, she’s dropping the vibrator on the bed and obeying before he’s even done talking, because _of course_ she is, Jesus, who would _not_ be? “Bra too.” 

“Delightedly,” Darcy says. She puts him on speakerphone, which she probably should’ve done sooner, and unhooks her bra to slide off. She drops the bra and panties both on the floor because they are officially useless to her, they are the _least_ useful things they could _possibly_ be, and she picks up the vibrator again because it is her favorite thing on this bed right now. 

Next to her phone, obviously. Her phone is the definite winner there. 

“Done?” Bucky says. 

“Very done,” she says, pressing her thighs together. 

“You touched yourself yet?” he says. 

“No.” She bites her lip again. “Not to imply I wouldn’t like to be, for the record. Like, just to be clear.” 

“Yeah?” he says with a soft laugh that _warms_ her. “Well you should do that, then.” 

“Ngh,” Darcy says, and because she likes to get right down to business, she spreads her thighs and presses the gently buzzing head of the vibrator against her clit. On this setting it’s only barely better than a tease, but she still moans at the contact. 

Well, maybe that’s just because she’s already so worked up. 

“Feels good?” Bucky says. 

“Oh, definitely,” Darcy manages, rubbing the vibrator lightly against herself. She resists the urge to turn up the setting. Waiting for him to tell her to do it is going to be _so_ much better. “Very good. One might even say ‘great’.” 

“Good,” he says. “I want you to feel good.” 

She has _no_ idea why hearing that is so affecting, but it sure as hell is. 

“Well, you’re for sure getting that,” she says, glancing down at the vibrator. Honestly, she’s already way wetter than she has any reason to be, and the temptation to just slip it inside herself is . . . _high_ , let’s say. Like, it is a very serious temptation. 

“Paid any attention to those pretty tits yet?” Bucky says, low and warm. Darcy wants to ride his _face_. 

“Can’t say I have, no,” she says just a little thinly, tightening her grip on the vibrator. “Honestly, usually don’t spend too much time on them.” She’s run into a lot of people who were annoying about them, actually, in bed and out, but nothing about Bucky is annoying at all. 

“Shame,” he said. “I’d like to.” 

“Yeah, you were pretty good at that,” she says, remembering how his mouth had felt on her breasts, hot and wet and just about perfect. She’d really, really enjoyed that. “Very good, actually, one might even say.” 

“Yeah?” He laughs. It’s a soft little thing that makes Darcy’s heart wrench and her cunt _ache_. 

“Oh . . . very, yeah,” she says. 

“You should turn up the setting on your toy,” he says. Darcy is _on it_. 

_“Oh,”_ she gasps, now that the vibration’s not just a tease. Bucky hums. She wonders if he’s going to touch himself too. She wonders if he’s touching himself right _now_. She doubts he’s got any toys to be using on himself, so it’d just be that big, strong hand wrapping around that gorgeous cock and . . . 

“How’s that feel?” Bucky says, which is _almost_ distracting enough to keep her from thinking about his cock. It’s a very nice cock. She really wishes it were here. 

“Pretty good,” Darcy manages. 

“How many settings has that thing got?” he asks. 

“Five,” Darcy says. “They’re, uh, there’s patterns, too.” 

“Patterns?” He sounds interested. 

“Yeah,” she says. “Like . . . different pulsing?” 

“Huh,” he says. “ _That’s_ new.” 

“The future is full of exciting new innovations in the field of sex toys,” Darcy says with a breathless laugh. She covers one of her breasts with her free hand and squeezes it, biting her lip. She wants his cock so _bad_. She could suck him off, maybe. 

He could fuck her, _definitely_. 

“I like the way you sound,” Bucky says. 

“Oh, you haven’t heard a _damn_ thing yet,” Darcy tells him, and he laughs again, and again it’s that soft little one that goes straight to both her heart and cunt. She puts a finger on the button that switches the setting, but doesn’t press it yet. She wants to hear him say it more than she wants to do it, which, for the record, is a _lot_ of wanting. 

“Promises, promises,” he muses. “You’re gonna get me _excited_ over here, doll.” 

“It is definitely a promise,” Darcy says, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment as a bolt of lust stabs through her. “Especially if it gets you excited. Have I mentioned how bad I miss your cock yet, because I miss it _bad_.” 

“Turn it up,” Bucky says, and that’s _definitely_ a reward. Darcy hits the button again and muffles a little keen behind her teeth, rubbing the vibrator harder against her clit. It’s good. It’s really, really good. “Don’t be so quiet, doll. You promised me, right?” 

“Ngh,” Darcy says with great feeling, dropping back against the bed. Her phone is right next to her head, practically against her ear, so she hears it _very_ clearly when he keeps talking. 

“Yeah, you promised,” he says. “So let me hear you.” 

“I can do that,” Darcy gets out, her voice rough. She adjusts the angle of the vibrator against her clit and doesn’t hold back the resulting moan. Bucky hums again. She hopes he’s touching his cock. She hopes he’s thinking about fucking her with it. She hopes that big fat knot of his is already _aching_ , because she sure as hell is. 

“Good girl,” he says, and she moans again. “Yeah, you’re real sweet, aren’t you. Makes me wanna knot you ‘til you can’t even come anymore.” 

“I am definitely amenable to that,” Darcy pants, just rubbing the vibrator back and forth against herself. She’s so empty. She needs him inside her. She needs him to _come_ inside her, fill her up and make her all fat and full and—

“Are you wet?” he says, and she laughs in disbelief at the question. 

“Baby, I’m _soaking_ ,” she says. 

“Then you should be fucking yourself already,” he says. Darcy groans. It’s no effort at all to slide the toy down against her folds and into her cunt, and the vibrations go through her and her toes _curl_. She’s panting harder, trying not to squirm, and everything’s so _sensitive_ she almost forgets to start fucking herself. 

Except he told her to, so no way in hell she’s gonna. 

“Oh, oh, _oh_ ,” she says, gasping, and somehow manages to get even wetter, so her fucking greedy cunt’s practically dripping slick. It’s heat, probably, but it _feels_ like it’s Bucky. Feels like he could do this to her any time he wanted, no questions asked. “Ohhhh—” 

“How do you want to come?” Bucky says. 

“On your _knot_ ,” Darcy groans, because she cannot even pretend otherwise, and he huffs out another soft laugh. She could really get used to hearing that. 

“You know I’d let you if I could, doll,” he says. “You came so pretty on it before.” 

“Let me, let me, please, I’ll be _so_ pretty,” Darcy whines pleadingly, fucking herself faster, and yeah, that might be heatbrain talking. She is definitely . . . she is really feeling that heatbrain feel right now, _God_. 

“I know you will,” Bucky says. “You’re gonna come so pretty for me, doll. Prettier than anything.” 

“Please, please,” Darcy begs like she’s not the one doing all the work here, like he’s actually got anything to do with the way she’s fucking herself—except he does, he _does_ , and she wants as much of it as he’ll give her. 

“Turn it up,” he says. She clicks the button unthinkingly, and the vibrator fucking _buzzes_. She doesn’t yell, technically, but it’s a damn close thing to one. “There you go. You’re doing so good. Don’t stop now.” 

“Bucky, Bucky!” she chokes, throwing her head back and desperately missing his hands on her body. “I can’t—I need—!” 

“I know, doll,” he says, and then, in an alpha-voiced rumble, “Come for me.” 

She _shrieks_. 

And she comes, of course. 

“Good girl,” Bucky husks, and Darcy trembles and moans and makes a whole mess of noises she doesn’t even have names for. “Keep going. You can keep going for me, right?” 

“Yeah,” Darcy manages, and fucks herself so deep she can feel the vibrator’s knot pressing against her folds. The stupid thing’s almost, _almost_ enough, but she still can’t help comparing it to Bucky and wishing she’d bought a bigger one. If Bucky were here, she’d be so full she could barely _handle_ it. If Bucky were here, he’d be touching her right now, or handling the vibrator himself, or just _fucking_ her himself. 

Whatever he’d be doing, it’d be perfect. She’s very, very sure of that. 

“So pretty, doll,” Bucky says. “Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

“You should be here, you should absolutely be here, I miss your cock so _much_ , baby,” Darcy babbles, pushing the toy in deeper. Even uninflated the knot spreads her open, and she nearly comes again, toes curling against the bed. “Oh, oh, ohhhh, why aren’t you _here_ —” 

“Would be if I could,” Bucky says, his voice a little tight. “You feel so good inside. I bet you smell like _candy_ right now.” 

“Buckyyyyy,” Darcy whines, tossing her head. He should be here, he should be in her, he should be fucking her ‘til she _screams_. 

“How’s that knot work?” Bucky asks, and Darcy _whines_. “You can make it bigger, right?” 

“Uh-huh,” she manages, voice strangled. 

“How big is it right now?” he says. Darcy fucks the toy in knot-deep again and inhales raggedly. 

“Not enough,” she croaks. “Oh, so nowhere near enough.” 

“So do something about that,” he says, and of course she does: she presses the button to inflate it, and it grows inside her, and she _mewls_. “Yeah, just like that.” 

She likes that he can tell she’s listening. She likes that he _trusts_ she’s listening. 

She likes pretty much everything, right now. 

“So pretty,” Bucky says, and Darcy groans, and—“One setting left, right?”

_“Ngh,”_ Darcy says. 

“Yeah, I thought so,” he says. She pictures him leaning over her. She pictures him watching her. Doesn’t have to picture him listening, because he already is. Maybe he’d kiss her, if he were here. She’d really, _really_ like that. “Go on.” 

She does, obviously. She hits the button for the last setting, and something electric crackles through her gut and up her spine, and she throws her head back and _keens_ with it. Bucky is quiet, like he’s just listening to her, but she can hear him breathing. It’s kind of rough. She wonders if he’s touching himself. 

She imagines him touching himself, and she thinks about it: his big strong hand wrapped around that big beautiful dick and just stroking himself, holding himself, doing exactly what _she_ wants to be doing and—

"Omega," he murmurs in his alpha voice, and Darcy comes. It’s really, really easy to come. The vibrations shaking through her and the knot filling her up tight and just the _thought_ of Bucky touching himself and the sound of his _voice_ and—yeah. Yeah, it’s really easy. She keens again, knocking her head back harder against the mattress, and the toy fills her up and she locks it _almost_ as tight as she’d lock him if she could, and it keeps vibrating, and drags out her orgasm, and feels so _good_. 

Everything about this feels so, so good. 

“Fuuuuck,” she moans, and Bucky exhales raggedly. 

“Did you come?” he says. 

“Oh, I definitely did,” Darcy croaks as she makes herself turn off the toy before she can get too sensitive for it, still shuddering. 

“Atta girl,” Bucky says. “You sounded gorgeous.” 

“Mmm,” Darcy says. She squeezes her body tighter around the toy's knot and shudders again. She’d keep talking, but she feels dizzy and heady and kind of like just falling asleep like this, and kind of like going three more rounds, at _least_. She wishes Bucky were here to pet her hair or kiss her or turn the vibrator back on. 

“How do you feel?” he asks. 

“So, so green,” she murmurs, and he lets out a soft, warm laugh. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, me too.” 

“Keep talking?” she says. She still feels dizzy and heady, but she wants to hear his voice more than anything else. 

“I can do that,” he says. “What about?” 

“Mmm,” she says again, not really able to find the words, and he hums back softly. 

“So gorgeous, doll,” he says. “Wish I could see you right now. Bet you’re pretty as a picture. Bet you look better than anything.” 

Darcy whines a little, because she wishes that too, she wishes that so _bad_ , and he hums soothingly again. 

“You’re so good,” he says, and she feels warm all the way through. “Want me to stay on the line for a while, doll?” 

_“Yes.”_

“Yeah. Okay.” 

She really doesn’t know how or even if whatever they’re doing here is gonna work, all things considered, with her heat ready to rise again at any moment and all Bucky’s problems to worry about and Captain freaking _America_ somewhere out there doing his own thing, but . . . 

Well. She wants Bucky to stay on the line as long as he can, either way. 

Yeah. She definitely wants that.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another "thanks to zephrbabe" chapter for y’all! Gonna try and wrap things up with the next chapter, we'll see how that goes.

Bucky stays on the phone until his battery dies, which is really, really nice but also really, really not enough. Darcy doesn’t blame him, obviously, but that doesn’t mean she doesn’t feel like she’s about to go crazy without that raspywarm voice murmuring in her ear. He’s got such a good voice, she could listen to that voice for _hours_. 

Well, actually that’s all she wants to do. 

A lot of batteries are going to die this heat, she can already tell. 

Darcy manages to handle herself until Bucky calls back, at least, so that's some mercy and all. He's still a gentleman, and still more concerned with her being taken care of than he probably should be under the circumstances, but no _way_ is she going to say that. If Bucky wants to be the MVP of her heat, she is not gonna be the one to stop him. Like, no chance of that whatsoever. 

He talks her through it with more patience than most of the partners who've actually been in the _room_ with her have had, and Darcy is . . . well, wooed, pretty much. Very wooed. And that without even talking about how _good_ at the talking her through it he is, because he is so, so good at that. Just . . . so good. She’s mentioned that, right? That’s come up? 

Jesus. She _adores_ this alpha. She'd like to know who wouldn't, frankly. 

She just also really, really wishes he were here. 

But he's not, so he talks her through it, and a few times he has to go switch out the battery in his phone or plug it into a charger or she doesn't know what, exactly, but he's never gone for long. Once he's gone almost fifteen minutes and when he comes back he's out of breath, but he doesn't explain and honestly at the time she's in no place to ask. All she knows is that her alpha's back, and that's all she cares about. 

Considering the situation, it's a really good heat. She definitely kills the batteries in all her favorite toys, but that's fine; past Darcy thought ahead enough to keep spares in the toybox. She kills most of _those_ , too, but that's just unavoidable, frankly. 

So yeah, against all odds, it's a really good heat. 

When it's all over, Darcy wakes up to a dead phone and wrecked nest and doesn't even remember falling asleep. Mostly everything’s sort of a hormone-soaked blur, honestly; heats are just like that. She rolls over and drags her rat’s nest of hair out of her face and, first and most importantly, she plugs her phone in, and then she texts Bucky. 

_Think I'm all clear over here,_ she says, though she’s tired and achy and still wishes he were here. Sue her, she'd appreciate a little cuddling in the afterglow. _You safe?_

It takes a minute, but he texts back. 

_Yeah,_ he says. _I'm good._

_Good,_ she says, then glances around the room. It definitely looks like she spent two days out of her mind on hyped-up hormones, put it that way. Or like a hurricane came through; whichever. And she is _starving_ , for sure. She has vague memories of Bucky talking her into eating her heat snacks, but heat snacks only go so far. At this point she is ready to eat her dang _kitchen_. 

Yeah, that sounds like a good idea. 

Darcy gets up, gets out the toaster and frying pan, and razes the contents of her fridge, then leaves the dishes to rot and takes a very long and very needed shower. She keeps texting Bucky and he keeps texting back, at least while she’s not shampooing her hair, but they don't really talk about anything important. Or much of anything at all, honestly. 

It's nice, though. 

She just still wishes he were actually _here_ for it, that's all. That's not too much to ask, or at least wouldn't be in a world without murderous mind-control Nazis on Bucky's tail. Unfortunately that world is not _this_ world. 

It sucks. Definitely, definitely sucks. 

At least he keeps texting, though. 

_Okay,_ Darcy says after they’ve talked for a while and she's dried her hair and gotten dressed and doesn't look _quite_ so "rode hard and put away wet". _I gotta go and make sure Jane hasn't starved without me. Because, like, JANE._

_Take care,_ Bucky says, and she really, really wishes she could kiss him. She sends a bunch of heart emojis instead, because yeah he’s a super-soldier brainwashed assassin but she is who she is and that’s sure as shit not gonna change. 

Like, why would it? 

_I'll text you later,_ she says. _No pressure or anything, it's okay if you decide not to answer. Just I'm not gonna be able to resist texting after this._

_You can call,_ he says, and a warm thrill goes through her. 

_Okay,_ she says, smiling helplessly at her phone. That. That is really, really nice. 

She puts her phone in her pocket and goes to check on Jane, who she finds talking animatedly to Dr. Cho in the lab and having apparently missed at least two meals. Darcy drags her to the cafeteria and makes sure she eats some lunch and listens to further animated talking. Darcy’s no Dr. Cho, of course, so she has mostly no idea what Jane’s talking about, but Jane’s pretty excited about it. Physics is involved. Lots and lots of physics. 

“Oh, wait,” Jane says, stopping mid-sentence to blink at her. “Are you okay?” 

“Oh, you know, holding up,” Darcy says wryly. Sometimes Jane forgets the basics, but she usually gets there in the end. 

“Did you find a partner on-base, or . . .?” 

“No,” Darcy says with a shrug, and then because the whole “I know how to contact the Winter Soldier” secret is already out, “I called Bucky. He helped me out.” 

“Over the phone?” Jane looks baffled. “That works?” 

“Well, it worked this time,” Darcy says. “He’s a real sweet talker, put it that way.” 

“Oh,” Jane says, obviously surprised. “Really?” 

“Definitely.” With a different partner, Darcy would probably give Jane a few more of the dirty details, but Bucky she just feels like she needs to be more tight-lipped about, for obvious reasons. “He did good. So it wasn’t too bad, even without somebody actually in the nest with me.” 

“That’s good,” Jane says. “I’m never sure how much I should worry about that kind of thing.” 

“It’s cool,” Darcy says with another shrug. “He had it covered.” 

“Good,” Jane says again, and they eat their lunch. And yeah, Darcy just razed her fridge, but she’s already hungry again. Heat really takes it out of you. Jane asks a few more prodding questions, but nothing too invasive, and Darcy answers most of them and bites her tongue on a couple, because again, she’s feeling more tight-lipped about Bucky than the average partner. Jane seems to understand, or at least doesn’t press her on anything she doesn’t wanna talk about. 

Darcy kind of wishes she were still texting Bucky, honestly. Not that she minds hanging out with Jane, obviously, it’s just, you know . . . _Bucky_. 

Possibly she’s a little obsessed right now, but in her defense, they did just—technically—spend a heat together. 

She wonders when his rut’s due, and what he’s gonna do for it. 

Okay, yeah. She’s obsessed. Gotta reel back on this whole situation for sure. She doesn’t want to be a creep about things, and she definitely doesn’t have the “best friends since childhood who kinda tried to kill each other” excuse to pull. She can be invested a normal amount and that’s _it_. 

Though it’s hard to figure out the “normal” amount of investment in this situation, honestly. 

She should probably do that before she actually goes and calls him, she thinks. 

Yeah. That definitely seems like the thing to do. 

Jane finishes eating, Darcy debates going back for seconds, and _speaking_ of just how invested she should be in this situation . . . 

“Excuse me,” Captain America says from behind them, and Darcy chokes on her drink. Okay, wow. She really should’ve smelled him coming. 

“Um?” she says, turning to look up at him and trying not to look guilty. There is absolutely nothing to feel guilty over, she reminds herself. 

Anyway, even if there was, he _did_ ditch her in a Starbucks to get HYDRA-napped, so she figures they should be even-stevens on that kind of thing. 

“I heard you were indisposed,” he tells her, which Darcy assumes is polite forties talk for “busy banging your own brains out”. “I just wanted to update you on Bucky.” 

“You didn’t find him,” she says, and he pauses. 

“No,” he says. “You’ve talked to him again?” 

“Mmmmm,” Darcy says, trying to figure out if this is a conversation she should be having. Bucky didn’t _say_ to keep her mouth shut, though, so . . . “Yeah, kinda.” 

Kinda a _lot_ , really. 

“I see,” Captain America says with a very faint, depressing smile. “Then I suppose I’m not telling you anything you don’t already know.” 

“Mmmmm,” Darcy says into her drink, _really_ not sure what to say here. She doesn’t blame Captain America for wanting to find Bucky any more than she blames Bucky for not wanting found, though. He probably needs help, and, like, ninety years of therapy, but it’s up to him if he actually _wants_ it. “He just helped me out. We didn’t really, like, _discuss_ things. Stuff. The . . . situation.” 

“You don’t have to explain,” Captain America says. “I’m glad he has someone to talk to.” 

“You are seriously not a real person,” Darcy says, and he gives her another one of those depressing smiles. It’s . . . well, depressing. “Sorry, man. I’d tell you more, but, like . . . his privacy and personal autonomy and all?” 

“I understand,” Captain America says. “Really.” 

She feels like he _does_ , which doesn’t actually make her feel any better, honestly. It’s still just depressing. The guy so obviously just wants his best friend back, and Bucky . . . 

Well. It’s not her place to get involved in that whole mess. They need to either work that out or not work that out themselves. 

“Are you alright?” Jane asks, which is kinda the question Darcy wants to ask herself. Captain America looks surprised by it, for some reason. Maybe people don’t usually ask him that kind of thing. 

“Yes,” he says. That, Darcy does _not_ believe. Still not her place, though. 

“He’s okay,” she says. “I mean. Obviously.” 

“That’s all that matters,” he says, and Darcy . . . she isn’t really sure what to believe there. But she can believe he _wants_ to think that, at least. So there’s that. 

“Okay,” she says, biting the inside of her cheek. He smiles that same depressing smile at her again, though she assumes he doesn’t realize it’s depressing or he probably wouldn’t be doing it so much. She really wishes there were something she could do, but it is very, very obvious that there’s only one person who could do anything at all. 

Which . . . yeah. Of course there is. 

Captain America says his goodbyes and leaves. Darcy doesn’t really know how to stop him, or if she even should. Maybe she should’ve asked for his number or something, so she could give it to Bucky. If Bucky would even want it, she means. But that would definitely not be keeping out of the situation, so yeah, no, she definitely should not have. Good job, self-restraint, way to be. 

She really doesn’t know what to do here, though. 

“That is the saddest human being that I have ever seen,” Jane says, watching him go. 

“Yeah, fair,” Darcy says, and pulls out her phone with a sigh.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to zephrbabe for this chapter, as before. I tried to wrap it up here but couldn’t quite manage it, so I guess we have another installment or two ahead. Plot is SO tricky, you guys.

“Hey, so do you want Captain America’s phone number?” Darcy asks in the middle of the cafeteria with her usual total lack of impulse control, and the other side of the line is silent. She winces. Well, that’s . . . not really an answer at all, is it. 

At least she managed to wait until Jane took their trays up. 

“No pressure,” she says, glancing at the door Captain America left through. “Just thought I might be able to get it for you if you did.” 

“Where are you?” Bucky asks. 

“Cafeteria,” Darcy says, twisting a lock of hair around her fingers. “Specifically the Avengers’ compound cafeteria, ‘cuz they’ve got one of those. A cafeteria, I mean, but obviously also the compound. Uh. Please stop me before I run my mouth off.” 

“Did they ever figure out what was going on with the bomb?” he says. 

“Not according to Jane,” Darcy says, shaking her head. They talked about it on their way to lunch, because obviously they talked about it, but there was only so much to talk about. “Best guess is still that they were trying to rig a distraction so they could make a grab for you without anybody noticing. Alternate theories are much more far-fetched.” 

“I didn’t know they were that close to me,” Bucky says, his voice a little tight. 

“Well, they might’ve just been that close to _us_ and seen an opportunity, you know?” Darcy shrugs. “Like with me.” 

“Mm.” 

“Seems like it, anyway,” she says. 

“How’s that bruise?” he asks. 

“Barely feel it,” Darcy says, automatically prodding at it. It’s still kinda sore, admittedly, but mostly just when she touches it. Looks a lot better than it did the other day, for fucking sure. She’d forgotten she’d even told him about it, actually. 

. . . wait. _Did_ she tell him about it? 

She frowns. 

“Dude,” she says. “Have you been spy-creeping?” 

“Not with Romanoff around,” he says. 

“Hacking?” 

“Through Stark’s security?” 

“Okay, then how’d you know about the bruise?” Darcy says, still frowning. She really doesn’t remember telling him. She’s pretty sure even if she _had_ , she’d have downplayed it. “Did you, like, _bug_ me?” 

“You said ‘barely’ bruised,” he says. “So I assumed pretty bruised.” 

“Did I?” Darcy honestly does not remember that, although he clearly read her like a book. Really, though, she’s a little disappointed. She’d have _liked_ him to be sneaking around the compound, because then maybe, like, she could _see_ him. 

Probably that’s unhealthy or something. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “You really think I’d bug you?” 

“I mean, I have no idea,” Darcy says. “No offense, just we’ve only known each other five minutes and all. Also people around here have some very weird boundaries. Like, I think it’s a superhero thing.” 

“I’m not a superhero,” Bucky says. 

“Didn’t you used to drag Cap all around town against his will trying to get him to meet a pretty omega?” she says. “And force him on a bunch of double dates? Like, I distinctly remember hearing that was a thing.” 

“. . . okay, but that didn’t involve _spy equipment_.” 

“Fair,” Darcy says. “Hm. Sorry for sort of accusing you, then.” 

“Would’ve expected you to assume worse, honestly,” he says. 

“What, because you got brainwashed by Neo-Nazis?” Darcy snorts. “Yeah, no. I mean, I’d assume you’d do worse to _them_ , obviously, but so would pretty much any decent human being with the capacity to.” 

“I’m trying not to kill people anymore,” Bucky says. “Not really necessary with HYDRA, anyway. They have, uh . . .” 

“Suicide pills?” Darcy finishes. “Yeah, Cap mentioned that. Low-key horrifying but not gonna cry over spilled fascists.” She is definitely not sorry about that creepy, creepy beta being dead, much less the dude who punched her. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. She wants to ask if he's safe again, but there's only so many ways to ask somebody that before it starts sounding weird. She's gotta trust that he's got his shit handled or she'll go fucking _nuts_. 

Even if it's way more shit than any one person should be expected to handle and involves an entire terrorist organization being on his ass. 

Darcy exhales, and looks at the door Cap left through again. 

"You're still safe, right?" she says. 

"Yeah," he says, and a little of the tension leaves her shoulders. Not as much as would leave if he were here and she could see and touch and smell him, but beggars can't be choosers and all. 

"Good," she says. "I expect to see you again one of these days, you realize. Ideally during less dire and dangerous circumstances but hey I'll take what I can get. I'm not a picky omega." 

Bucky huffs out a soft laugh, and Darcy melts. He really is . . . he's really great. 

"I'll keep that in mind," he murmurs. Her heart squeezes in her chest. 

"Good," she repeats firmly, tightening her grip on her phone. "That's good." 

"Mm," he says. She forces herself to wait for him to talk. It requires way more effort than it should, but she manages. “You have his phone number?” 

“Not yet, but I am _certain_ I could get it no questions asked,” Darcy says. “He kinda owes me after the kidnapping incident. Although he did save me from said incident, but still. Kinda his fault and all.” 

“My fault,” Bucky says. 

“Okay, you two can share the blame,” Darcy says, and he huffs out another laugh. “What, I thought that was very generous of me.” 

“You’re something, doll,” he says. 

“I will take that as the compliment it is so clearly intended to be,” Darcy says, putting on a show of preening even though he’s not here to see it. 

“It definitely is,” Bucky says, and she smiles helplessly. 

Yeah, he’s great. 

“Look, I gotta go. Jane’s coming back,” she says. “Unless you don’t care if she knows I’ve got your phone number, anyway. Admittedly that’s probably not a big conclusion jump, after everything.” 

“I don’t care if she knows,” Bucky says. “But I do have to go. I’ll . . . call you later, okay?” 

“Okay,” Darcy says, feeling warm and silly and smitten, and they say their goodbyes and hang up. Jane comes back, and Darcy follows her back to the lab, where they proceed to work as normally as possible in a still slightly blown-up lab. There’s a lot of glassware that needs replaced, put it that way. 

Well, at least the guy who opened the package is supposedly okay, if not back to work yet himself. Darcy would also not be back to work yet, under the circumstances. Like . . . in no way, shape, or form. 

Admittedly, she both got kidnapped and had a heat this week and came back the first day after _that_ , but that’s probably still less upsetting than opening a bomb. He didn’t get to meet a handsome alpha with big hands and a soft laugh and a _perfect_ dick, for one thing, so she’s definitely the winner. 

Maybe she should send the guy a card, come to think. She doesn’t really know him, but she doesn’t really know anyone here besides Jane, and it seems, like . . . polite? Like, like the thing to do. She can get Jane to sign it too and maybe include some flowers or a balloon or something. Whatever you get for a co-worker in this kind of situation. 

For the moment, though, she’s got a couple days’ worth of work to catch up on, because the lab blowing up and HYDRA happening is not enough to keep Jane away from _SCIENCE!!_ Darcy is pretty sure the end of the world wouldn’t do that. Pretty positive, actually, considering that their previous brushes with the end of the world have not, so yeah. 

She does her work, and Jane does her much more complicated work, and the lab is quiet because the other people who work here are slightly less committed than Jane, but Darcy doesn’t mind. Dr. Cho comes through a couple times and she sees the Black Widow standing in the hall outside the door once, but she doesn’t come in. Darcy’s not sure what she’s doing out there, but she’s too distracted with Jane’s notes to ask her what’s up and by the time she’s not, the other’s gone. 

Weird, she thinks, chewing on the end of her pen. 

Well, whatever. Much weirder things have happened, especially this week. 

It’s been a very weird week, even for Darcy. 

She gets through the rest of the workday, and Jane checks on her once or twice but otherwise it’s a normal workday. Bucky doesn’t call back, but that’s fine; Darcy can absolutely be patient. Really. Definitely. For sure. 

Anyway, that’s why she’s sitting on her couch and staring at her phone. 

It doesn’t ring, but someone knocks. 

Darcy startles, a little surprised, then gets up and opens the door. She’s expecting Jane, or _maybe_ Captain America. What she gets is . . . not that. 

“You know how to contact the Winter Soldier,” the Black Widow says. 

“Um?” Darcy says, blinking at her. For an alpha, she has very subtle pheromones. “I mean, arguably. I know how to contact _Bucky_ , if that’s what you’re asking.” She assumes that’s not really a secret anymore, at least among the Avengers. 

“You found his kill list,” the Black Widow says. 

“Yeaaaah?” Darcy says skeptically. “I mean, you’ve seen it too by now, right?” 

“It wasn’t immediately relevant,” the Black Widow says. 

“. . . dude, he killed the _Starks_ ,” Darcy says, raising her eyebrows at her. “That’s pretty relevant. Has someone talked to Iron Man about that yet, actually, because I really think someone not-me should do that.” 

“He’ll be here in an hour,” the Black Widow says. “He’s going to have questions.” 

“Answering those questions will _not_ include showing him the video, right?” Darcy asks warily. The Black Widow’s attention sharpens. 

“There’s video?” she says. 

“I mean, like . . . not if Tony Stark asks,” Darcy says. She can’t see _that_ ending well. “Like, for his own good.” 

The Black Widow looks at her for a long moment. Darcy resists the urge to fidget. 

“That’s valuable intel,” the Black Widow says. 

“. . . okay?” Darcy guesses. “Still don’t see how letting the guy watch something like that is good for him.” 

The Black Widow keeps watching her. It’s _wildly_ unsettling. She doesn’t say anything. 

“So, uh . . .” Darcy says. “Did you _need_ something, or . . .?” 

“Tell Barnes to go to ground and meet us in the briefing room in an hour,” the Black Widow says, which is a little alarming. “Bring your computer if you need it.” 

“Am I _gonna_ need it?” Darcy asks. Seriously, all this sounds like a conversation they should’ve had _days_ ago, and do not need her involved in. She’s not an Avenger. She’s barely an associate of the Avengers, especially when Thor’s off-world. 

“Stark’s going to want to see where you got the files,” the Black Widow says. 

“That is gonna result in him watching the video, you realize,” Darcy points out. The Black Widow snorts. 

“If Stark wants it, he’s finding it,” she says. “This is a courtesy.” 

“. . . suuuure,” Darcy says, and the Black Widow leaves without saying anything else useful, much less “goodbye”. 

She isn’t even sure where the briefing room _is_. 

Darcy texts Bucky with the most non-alarming “you should get off the grid” she can, and he immediately calls her. So . . . probably a little alarming, then. 

Whoops. 

“Everything’s okay,” she says. 

“That didn’t sound okay,” he says. 

“They told Tony Stark what happened to his parents. They want me to, like, show him where I found the files about it,” she says, and he falls silent. “Do, uh, _you_ know what happened to his parents?” 

“Yes,” Bucky says tightly. 

“Yeah,” Darcy says. “And Tony Stark is not known for having reasonable, well-controlled, non-impulsive reactions, sooo . . . maybe stay under the radar a bit more than usual, if you can. Possibly turn off your phone. And take the battery out. And just move into a cave in the woods somewhere.” 

“If he wants revenge . . .” Bucky says, sounding tired. 

“We have no idea what he’s gonna want, actually, but you are _not_ the person to get it on, either way,” Darcy says. “So, like, is there anything you can tell me that he might wanna know? Like, who ordered it, maybe?” 

“A dead man,” Bucky says. 

“Well, that’s something,” Darcy says. She doubts it’s gonna make Tony Stark feel much better, but . . . yeah, it’s something. 

Something that keeps Bucky the main target of any revenge-related desires Tony Stark might end up having, unfortunately. 

Well, he’s a superhero, Darcy tells herself. He can compartmentalize. Probably. Almost definitely. 

This is gonna be a real shitty meeting, she’s already betting. 

“You don’t need to defend me,” Bucky says. 

“Well I’m gonna, so get used to it, alpha,” Darcy says, picking up her laptop and slipping her shoes back on. She might as well leave now; it’s probably gonna take her a minute to find the briefing room. 

This really isn’t her territory, but so what? The least she can do is defend a guy who’d just gotten dumped out of cryofreeze and a brainwashing torture machine from being blamed for something he would never have done in his right mind. She’d do a lot more than that, given the chance. 

“You really don’t,” Bucky says. 

“You realize half the reason they want me there is probably so he’ll know you’re _not_ a heartless HYDRA murder machine, right?” Darcy says. “Me _existing_ is your defense, at this point.” 

“That’s not your responsibility,” Bucky says. 

“Too bad, you’re not here to stop me,” Darcy retorts flippantly. “I am gonna defend your ass until the fucking cows come home and you are gonna have to live with that.” 

He falls quiet, and she heads out into the hall and in the vague direction of the offices, as the most logical place she can think of to start searching for the briefing room. Seems reasonable, anyway. 

“Darcy,” he says eventually. 

“That’s me,” she says. 

“You really don’t have to do this,” he says. 

“Listen, man, you owe me another frappe,” she says. “Possibly several frappes. It’s very important. I will absolutely face down the threat of public speaking in front of the Black Widow and Iron Man and probably Captain America on your behalf.” 

“I just . . . don’t want to make trouble for you,” Bucky says. 

“I make my own trouble,” Darcy says, and then promptly proves that by turning a corner and running directly into Captain America. “Uh.” 

“Sorry,” he says, steadying her with one hand before she can stumble. 

“No, it’s cool,” Darcy says, feeling briefly insane with Bucky Barnes on her phone and Captain freaking America’s hand on her arm. That is a lot for _any_ omega, okay? Even leaving out all the complicated shit. “Um. Are you gonna be at the thing? With Iron Man?” 

“Yes,” Captain America says. He isn’t looking at her phone at all, which is some truly ridiculous self-control on his part. Like, she’s impressed. Or concerned. Maybe both. 

“Cool,” Darcy says weakly. “Um . . .” 

“Let me talk to him,” Bucky says. 

She holds out the phone, _obviously_ , and Captain America looks down at it for a long moment before accepting it. He holds it to his ear. 

“Bucky,” he says quietly. “Please come in.” 

“You don’t need that trouble, Rogers,” Bucky says. He’s quiet too, but Darcy can hear him fine, and feels a little bit invasive. She could leave, she guesses, but that might be weird. 

“I don’t give a fuck,” Captain America says, which is _definitely_ not the way he talked on the Saturday-morning cartoon. Bucky sighs. 

“You still can’t leave well enough alone,” he says resignedly. “What would you say to Stark, huh? To Romanoff and Wilson?” 

“I’d say the truth,” Captain America says. “It’s not on you, and anyone who wants to blame you for what HYDRA did is going to have to go through me.” 

Bucky laughs, low and humorless, and Captain America’s mouth tightens. Darcy winces. She probably should’ve left. 

“I promised you, didn’t I,” Bucky says tonelessly. “‘Til the end of the line.” 

“I’m gonna hold you to that,” Captain America says, his voice rough. 

“Yeah,” Bucky says. “I guess you are, aren’t you.” 

He’s quiet for a long moment, and so is Captain America, and obviously Darcy isn’t gonna be the one to break the silence. 

“Steve,” Bucky says. “Take care of Darcy for me, okay?” 

Captain America opens his mouth to reply, and Bucky hangs up the phone.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really did assume this fic would be over by now but the story is the unit of measurement, kids.

Captain America shows Darcy to the briefing room, so they’re early. The Black Widow is already there, who knows why, which makes talking about what just happened a little too awkward, so they don’t. At least, that’s why Darcy doesn’t. Who knows about Captain America’s reasons. 

He doesn’t really strike her as the type to care about things being a little awkward, admittedly. Normally neither is she, but . . . 

Darcy sits down at the table with her laptop and opens it, even knowing she’s really just here to prove Bucky’s not a murderous monster or anything else HYDRA tried to turn him into. Still, she might as well keep up the charade of being here for her hacking skills, she figures. 

She opens the files she downloaded from the dump, but for obvious reasons not the video. She really cannot see how letting Tony Stark see that would do him any good. He’s already kind of, well . . . what little she knows of him . . . 

She’s not gonna say _fragile_ , but she’s gonna think it. Obviously he’s also a super-genius super-rich superhero and an incredibly famous and powerful alpha, but that’s got nothing to do with his parents. 

. . . okay, probably _some_ things to do with his parents, but that’s not really the point. Darcy, personally, can roll with a lot of shit, but if someone showed _her_ a video of somebody she knew getting murdered—well, it wouldn’t exactly bring out her calm and rational side. 

And they were his _parents_. 

“You’re awfully early,” Captain America observes. The Black Widow smirks humorlessly. Eventually she’ll think of them by their real names, Darcy promises herself. Sooner or later. 

“Well, you know how Stark likes to make an entrance,” the Black Widow drawls lightly. Captain America sighs, and gives her a humorless smile of his own in return. Gallows humor is clearly in effect. Darcy wonders which one of them broke the news and how Tony Stark took it, besides the obvious answer of “badly”. She’s pretty sure there’s no taking that kind of news _well_. 

“I warned the hangar crew,” Captain America says. 

“Let’s hope he doesn’t come in a skylight, then,” the Black Widow says. 

“I told him security was still on high alert over the bomb,” Captain America says. The Black Widow gives him a dry look. “. . . alright, maybe I should’ve just opened a skylight.” 

“Could’ve lugged the briefing room table up to the roof, saved everybody some time and stress,” Darcy suggests, because weird borderline-gallows humor is a specialty of hers and she wants in. Captain America looks at her. The Black Widow smirks. 

“Not interested in carrying that many chairs, thanks. Wouldn’t want to break a nail,” she says. Darcy is about to say something witty and hopefully not lame back when they hear heavy footsteps storming up the hall outside and all automatically turn towards the door. It’s still early, but Darcy is very sure who it’s gonna be all the same. And sure enough, Tony Stark bursts into the briefing room with pheromones reeking of grief and fury, still half in his armor, and he draws himself up and bares his teeth and snarls: “Where is he.” 

Well, that’s a bad start. 

“Good question,” the Black Widow says, and Tony Stark snarls again, incoherent and fuming and so, so angry. 

“When did you know?!” he demands, slamming an armored hand down on the table. It dents it. He very clearly doesn’t even notice. 

“For sure? Three days ago,” Captain America says. “We would’ve told you sooner if we’d been able to get a hold of you.” 

“The helicarriers went down _months_ ago!” Tony Stark says. 

“We were looking for Bucky, not HYDRA’s old kill lists,” Captain America said. “Ms. Lewis found the information.” 

“Who the hell is _Ms. Lewis_?” Tony Stark demands. Darcy raises a tentative hand. 

“Guilty,” she says, as forever the worst at taking serious situations as seriously as she should. Ugh. Tony Stark swivels to stare at her, wide-eyed and furious, and she winces. This is . . . definitely not ideal. “Um. So, like, I was in the data dump trying to track down information about Bucky, and I found . . .” 

“My parents’ names,” Tony Stark says through gritted teeth. 

“Uh. Yeah.” Darcy manages not to wince again, but only just. “HYDRA kept pretty good track of their assassinations. Took some digging, but it was all there.” 

“And you didn’t find this?” Tony Stark asks Natasha, who raises an eyebrow at him. 

“ _You_ didn’t even find this,” she says. “Tell me you haven’t already combed the data dump for anything of interest. And you’ve been in SHIELD’s systems before, too.” 

“I wasn’t looking for my damn _parents_!” Tony Stark snarls. He’s not using his alpha voice, but he’s using a pretty intimidating tone all the same. Darcy really does not know what use she’s gonna be here. The whole “the guy who killed your parents is a victim too” thing is only gonna work if Tony Stark wants to listen to it, and this is not exactly a time prone to careful and logical thought processes. 

She feels for the guy, honestly, especially because she knows everyone in the room right now is more worried about what he’s going to do than how he feels, and he probably knows that too. 

They maybe should’ve gotten Pepper Potts or War Machine in here or something. 

“No one was,” Captain America says. “We missed it. I’m sorry.” 

“You’re _sorry_ ,” Tony Stark fumes, clenching his fists. “That’s all you’ve got for me, Rogers?” 

Captain America just looks at him, expression resigned but not apologetic. Tony Stark looks back, still seething with blatant fury. His armor whirrs and clanks. 

“Who ordered it?” he demands. 

“We don’t know,” Captain America says. 

“Guy’s dead, though,” Darcy volunteers, raising a hand again. “I checked.” 

“Checked?” Captain America frowns at her. Darcy shrugs, leaning back in her seat. 

“I asked,” she says. “Seemed like the thing to do.” 

“Great,” Tony Stark says tersely. “Just great. Wonderful. HYDRA killed my parents and the guy who ordered it’s _dead_ and the guy who _did_ it—” 

“He was brainwashed,” Captain America says. “They tortured him.” 

“I don’t give a fuck!” Tony Stark snaps. “He had a choice! He didn’t have to fucking _kill_ people for them!” 

“He didn’t know,” Captain America says. 

“Don’t fucking _defend_ him!” Tony Stark snarls. “He’s a murderer!” 

“They _tortured_ him,” Captain America repeats evenly. “He didn’t even remember who he was.” 

“He remembered how to kill people just fine!” Tony Stark says. 

“Tony . . .” 

“Don’t act like I’m being goddamn _difficult_!” Tony Stark says. “Tell me where he is!” 

“I mean, you’re reacting pretty rationally, considering,” Darcy says, drumming her fingers anxiously against her keyboard. “Unfortunately we are not in a super-rational situation here. And also nobody _knows_ where he is. Which: yay, because ‘nobody’ includes _HYDRA_ , but less yay because it also includes us.” 

“Who even _are_ you?!” Tony Stark demands, glaring at her. 

“She’s Dr. Foster’s intern,” Captain America says. “She’s . . . met Bucky.” 

“Banged his brains out without realizing who he was,” Darcy clarifies, because she is who she is and that’s not gonna change. “He also did not know who _I_ was. There was a lot of not-knowing going around. Then HYDRA tried to kidnap me for smelling like him, sooo . . .” 

“They want him back,” the Black Widow says. “So it’s pretty obvious he’s not doing what they want anymore.” 

“I don’t _care_!” Tony Stark says. “He already did it! They’re dead!” 

“That’s true, yes,” the Black Widow says with perfect neutrality. 

“It’s not his fault,” Captain America says. 

“Who the _hell_ else’s fault is it, Rogers?!” Tony Stark says. 

“I mean, you’re kind of both wrong?” Darcy says, and winces as everyone looks at her. “Look, yeah, Bucky still had free will and all, and _yeah_ he decided to do what HYDRA told him, but he didn’t _know_ anything except what HYDRA told him. And they told him he was doing the right thing. A lot. And then they fried every other thought he’d ever had out of his brain. Literally. There’s, uh . . . there was a machine they’d hook him up to.” 

“Show me,” Tony Stark orders. Darcy doesn’t generally take orders, but under the circumstances she’ll live with it. She calls up the schematics for the chair, then turns her computer towards him. Tony Stark leans over and skims them, which probably means he could officially build one from memory in the desert with a box of scraps, which is . . . actually kind of a horrible thought, all things considered. He scrolls down twice, then lifts his head and glares at Captain America again. 

“He killed my parents,” he says. 

“HYDRA killed your parents,” Darcy says. “What, you think they didn’t have a couple hundred more assassins on call if the Winter Soldier fell through? Because they definitely did. Like . . . so many.” 

“He still _killed them_ ,” Tony Stark says harshly. 

“It wasn’t his idea,” Captain America says. 

“It was his fucking hands!” Tony Stark snaps. “What, I’m supposed to just ignore that?!” 

“I’m not asking you to help us,” Captain America says. “I’m just asking you not to get in the way.” 

“In the _way_?!” 

“I didn’t mean—” 

“What the hell _did_ you mean?!” 

“That you shouldn’t commit premeditated murder against a guy who wants nothing to do with any of this?” Darcy puts in awkwardly, and everyone looks at her again. It’s . . . super awkward, yeah. “I mean . . . he ran from _Captain America_. All he wants is left alone. He’s not hurting people.” 

“We don’t know that,” Tony Stark says. 

“I know that,” Darcy says, twisting her hands together. “He didn’t hurt me.” 

“That doesn’t mean anything!” 

“He took me dancing,” Darcy says. “And he was careful with me. Didn’t hurt me, like I said. Not exactly, you know . . . scary super-soldier assassin stuff.” 

“So that’s supposed to be fine?” Tony Stark says. “He can just kill whoever he wants and then go off and do whatever he likes?” 

“Dude,” Darcy says, as probably the stupidest person in the room to be bringing this up, but . . . “You made literal _bombs_ for a living and _you_ get to do whatever you want.” 

“I didn’t personally _murder_ people with them,” Tony Stark says, his eyes flashing. Darcy exhales, straightening her spine. 

“People died, though,” she says. “You make weapons and you use them. That’s, like, your whole thing. You can recognize a weapon when you see it, can’t you?” 

“He’s a damn _person_ , not a gun!” Tony Stark says. 

“He didn’t know that,” Darcy says, wondering why the hell any of them are even letting her talk. This is really not her specialty. Hell, she doesn’t even have a real dog in this race, much as she’s worried about Bucky. “I think he maybe still doesn’t. But he’s _trying_ not to be a gun. He found out what they were using him for and he’s trying to be different.” 

“That doesn’t change what he did,” Tony Stark says darkly, his armor whirring and clanking again. 

“Yeah? So what happens when some kid whose parents your bombs killed hunts you down?” Darcy asks, probably unfairly, but . . . “Do they get to kill you? Because I don’t remember that happening, last time it came up.” 

“Remind me why we care about your opinion?” Tony Stark says, glaring down at her. 

“We’ve all got sins to scrub out, Stark,” the Black Widow says idly. There’s something not all that idle about the way she says it, though. “She has a point.” 

“She really does not, no,” Tony Stark says. Captain America opens his mouth to speak, but is interrupted by the door to the briefing room opening again. The Falcon is standing there with a strange expression on his face. Again, Darcy really will start thinking of them by name _some_ day. Eventually. 

“Steve,” the Falcon says. “We have a problem.” 

“A problem?” Captain America immediately tenses, along with everyone else in the room. 

“Yeah,” the Falcon says. “The Winter Soldier just turned himself in.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks go to zephrbabe and also my Tumblr followers for getting me to finish this chapter, which I've been tragically neglecting.

“Your friend is an idiot, Rogers,” Tony Stark says tersely, eyeing the blue-tinged screen he’s called up and the headlines liberally splashed all over it. Every news station is the same, and Darcy feels sick to her stomach. 

WINTER SOLDIER APPREHENDED. 

WINTER SOLDIER ARRESTED. 

WINTER SOLDIER IN CUSTODY. 

WINTER SOLDIER . . . 

She forces herself to stop reading, but she can’t stop hearing the news anchors talking. 

“He’s not thinking clearly,” Captain America says. 

“Clearly.” Tony Stark looks irritated. “He’s going to get a bullet in the head. Or the electric chair, if the universe wants to be ironic.” 

“That’s not funny,” Captain America says. 

“Neither is the universe,” Tony Stark says. 

“Gonna assume we’re interfering in this?” the Falcon says. 

“Yes,” Captain America says. Darcy might tell him to calm down and think twice, buuut . . . well. Considering HYDRA was in _SHIELD_ . . . 

Yeah, she doesn’t really think he needs to think twice. 

“Oh, what, we’re gonna go storm the castle?” Tony Stark snorts. 

“We’re going to go make sure he’s okay,” Captain America says. 

“So yes,” Black Widow says dryly, raising an eyebrow at him. Captain America doesn’t look away from the screen. The news anchors keep talking. Darcy bites the inside of her cheek. She wants to say something, but she has no idea what to say. 

Bucky turned himself in to the U.S. government, because he really _doesn’t_ seem to be thinking clearly, and she has no idea if they even _can_ go make sure he’s okay. Are they even going to be allowed near him? Is anyone ever going to see him again? 

She feels like she’s about to puke, thinking like that, but it’s a serious concern. He might just disappear. He might die. He might— 

“None of you have to come,” Captain America says. 

“I’m coming,” the Falcon says. Black Widow hums neutrally, which Darcy suspects means the same thing. 

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Tony Stark says, giving Captain America an incredulous look. “My _lawyers_ are coming.” 

“What?” Captain America says, frowning faintly at him. 

“I can’t kill him if the US government beats me to it,” Tony Stark says. 

_“Tony,”_ Captain America says, looking frustrated. 

“I’m coming too,” Darcy says, and everyone looks at her. “Um.” 

“We may literally be breaking in,” Black Widow tells her. 

“Then I’ll drive?” Darcy says helplessly. 

“We’re going to have to take the Quinjet,” the Falcon says. 

“. . . okay, then I’ll wait in the stupid jet,” Darcy mutters. She definitely cannot fly a plane. “Do you need a distraction, maybe? I’m good at distractions.” 

“You can come,” Captain America says, and Darcy’s shoulders slump in relief. 

“Cool. Cool cool cool,” she says, like she wouldn’t have gone _crazy_ if they’d left her here. Because she definitely would’ve gone crazy if they’d left her here. 

Tony Stark banishes his floating screen and Darcy grabs her laptop and they all head for the hangar without so much as stopping to pick up any more Avengers. Darcy texts Jane as they walk, just so she’ll know where the hell she’s gone in case she needs her or something. It’s one of the weirder texts she’s sent in her life, but probably only like . . . top ten, she’d say? 

She’s sent a lot of weird texts in her life. 

Darcy's never been in the Quinjet before, so normally she'd be interested but right now she's really just worried. She might actually yell at Bucky when she sees him, assuming she's actually going to get to see him. 

She probably isn't going to be able to yell at him. Maybe she'll hug him, though. It's really hard to decide which. 

She just cannot _believe_ he turned himself in, except of course he turned himself in, and of course he didn't turn himself in to, oh, the _Avengers_? Who were right _there_? 

Of course he didn't. 

Everyone smells like stress or nervousness as the Quinjet takes off, except for Black Widow in the pilot's seat. Darcy sits next to her because Black Widow may be a scary super-spy but she's also the closest thing to a reassuring presence available. Even the Falcon smells stressed, which is weird to smell on a beta. Darcy's sure her own scent is just as unsettled and anxious, though, if not more so. 

She wants Bucky. She wants Bucky to be _safe_. She wants them to be in time, to get there before whatever's going to happen happens. 

She doesn't know if they will. 

"We might not be able to get him out," Black Widow says neutrally. 

"Oh, we're getting him out," Tony Stark says. "I want my pound of flesh _before_ the U.S. government turns out to be roiling with HYDRA." 

"If it is, we'll deal with it," Captain America says. 

". . . like, deal with it, or _deal_ with it?" Darcy says warily. Would that be treason? That sounds like it might be treason. 

Justifiable treason, obviously, but still. She didn't pack to overthrow the government. 

"Don't worry about it," the Falcon says. 

"Yeah, that's gonna be a thing I worry about," Darcy replies frankly. 

"Did you pack your taser?" he asks. 

"I always pack my taser," Darcy says. 

"Good." 

Nothing about that exchange was reassuring. 

"ETA?" Captain America says, leaning against the back of Black Widow's seat to look out the windshield. 

"Longer than you want it to be," Black Widow says. "I'll tell you when we're twenty minutes out." 

"Thanks," Captain America says, glancing back to the rest of them. Tony Stark is on the phone and arguing with someone, the Falcon is talking to someone else on his comm, and Darcy is sitting uselessly in the co-pilot's seat, not sure what she can actually do here. She's good with computers and has a taser and Bucky trusts her a little, but obviously she's not a super-spy hacker or military-grade tasers or his long-lost lifelong best friend. She's not really bringing anything new or vital to the table here. 

She is absolutely still coming, mind. She's never let being slightly less useful than the rest of the group stop her before and hell if she's gonna start now. 

"They're meeting us there," Tony Stark says, hanging up his phone. 

"Who are?" Captain America asks. 

"My lawyers, Rogers, keep up," Tony Stark says, snapping his fingers. "They're going to make a fuss for us." 

"I thought we were the fuss," the Falcon says wryly. 

"I mean, I'm not above it," Tony Stark says. 

"Would he actually come if we tried to break him out?" Darcy says. That seems to be a thing they're seriously considering, so . . . 

Captain America grimaces, folding his arms. 

"I don't know," he says. "He could've just turned himself in to us, if he wanted to." 

"That would've been vastly preferable, yes," Darcy says. 

"Would've saved us some Quinjet fuel, too," Tony Stark says, rapping his knuckles against the wall. 

“Where are we actually going, on that note?” Darcy asks, glancing out the windshield. “Like . . . do we actually know?” 

“We know,” Black Widow says. 

“They don’t _know_ we know, but we know,” Tony Stark says. 

“. . . so like, you hacked the FBI or something?” Darcy asks. 

“No comment,” Black Widow says with a neutral smile. 

“I’m insulted you think I stopped with the FBI,” Tony Stark says. 

“I guess that was an assumption on my part,” Darcy says wryly. Black Widow keeps flying the plane, and Captain America stays behind her seat, waiting. Darcy just sits there, also waiting. She’s going to be doing a lot of that today, probably, but it was wait here or wait back at the compound, so . . . 

Yeah, neither option was great. She just picked the slightly less awful one. 

She really hopes they’re going to the right place. And she really, _really_ hopes Bucky’s willing to come with them when they get there. 

“Twenty minutes,” Black Widow says. Captain America exhales, then steps away from her seat. 

“Alright,” he says. “Tony—” 

“Many lawyers,” Tony Stark says emphatically, pointing at his phone. “So many.” 

“I just want to know if you’re okay to do this,” Captain America says to him. 

“Seriously, you’re asking me that _now_?” Tony Stark says, giving him an incredulous look. “Are you kidding?” 

“I’m asking now,” Captain America says, expression steady. 

“I’m fine,” Tony Stark says testily. “No thanks to you, Rogers.” 

“I know,” Captain America says. 

“Of course you do!” Tony Stark says, throwing up his hands. “Come on, tell me all about how it’s not his fault! Tell me how that’s going to _fix_ it! Tell me just what’ll make it better! A good old-fashioned rousing speech from _Captain America_ , come on!” 

Captain America stands there with a terrible compassion on his face and doesn’t say a thing. 

Well . . . he’s not wrong not to, Darcy thinks. 

“Hey,” she says, and they look at her. “I know we’ve got people to avenge here, but can we focus on the one who needs saved first? Like . . . let’s avoid having to avenge one more, okay?” 

“That’s the plan,” the Falcon says. 

“Yeah, I’m really holding out hope for that one working out for us,” Darcy says, drumming her fingers on her laptop. She very much wants that one to work out. 

Like . . . obviously, really. 

“So where are we, again?” she asks, peeking out the windshield again. There’s a lot of buildings below, but no sign of an airstrip or the like. 

“Where we’re not wanted,” Black Widow says. 

“I guess that’s technically an answer,” Darcy says. Black Widow does some complicated-looking things to the control panel and the plane starts to lose altitude, and everyone takes a seat and buckles in. 

“So fair warning they _might_ be mad about us landing on their roof,” Tony Stark says. “Probably less mad than they will be about the part where we want to break out their extremely valuable prisoner, though, so whatever.” 

“I don’t care,” Captain America says. 

“I don’t care either, I’m just making sure everybody knows that we’re about to walk into a hostile environment and is appropriately armed for it,” Tony Stark says. “I don’t feel like covering anybody’s ass in there.” 

“We’re fine,” Captain America says. 

“You’d damn well better be,” Tony Stark says. “Lewis, can you fly this thing?” 

“Why on _earth_ would I be able to do that?” Darcy asks, giving him an incredulous look. 

“You watched Natasha do it, didn’t you?” he says. 

“Yeah, and I’ve watched Jane and Erik calculate magic rainbow bridges and talk quantum physics, that doesn’t mean I can _do_ it,” Darcy snorts. “You want me to be the getaway driver of your fancy sci-fi plane, then give me more than an hour’s notice, okay?” 

“Fine, just keep the engine running,” he says. 

"I don't know how to do that either!" 

"Why did we bring you again?" 

_"Tony,"_ Captain America sighs. "Please focus." 

"Jesus," Darcy says. 

"We'll be back soon, Darcy," Captain America says. She once again fails to think of him as "Steve". "Just . . . don't let anyone on board, if you can help it." 

"Yeah, okay," Darcy says, like the "anyone"s wouldn't probably be HYDRA or federal agents or both, and they all leave her there. 

Well. She's here, then. 

She paces around the Quinjet nervously, resisting the irrational urge to scent the place—what is she, an alpha?—and familiarizing herself with potential hiding places, just in case things go to shit. Chances of that are better than slim. 

No one tries to come in, but after about five minutes she does glimpse a few people in suits and dark glasses on the roof through the windshield, so _that's_ great. Just . . . great. 

She looks at the control panel, wondering if there's anything she can do besides tase anybody who tries to come in. Probably not, considering she has pretty much no idea what any of these buttons do. 

The Avengers even left the stupid _door_ open. 

Ugh. 

Darcy checks her taser, debates what to do, and finally just sits down in the co-pilot’s seat again and watches the people in suits through the windshield as they mill about awkwardly. If they wanna pull something, well, they can try and pull something. Mostly they look like they don’t know what to do. 

She wonders if the Avengers are actually going to break Bucky out or if they’re just going to ask for him to be released into their custody or they’re going to pay his bail or . . . she doesn’t know, exactly. Do brainwashed super-soldier assassins _get_ bail? 

She still has no idea where they actually even are. 

The people in suits are multiplying. Darcy makes a face. 

That’s probably bad, she thinks. 

Maybe she should’ve asked the Avengers to stay in contact, come to think of it. They must have a spare communicator around here or something. And she’d kind of like to tell them that the Quinjet is being slowly surrounded at the moment; that seems like something they should probably know. 

Well, hopefully they’re prepared for that eventuality, because it is definitely a thing that’s happening. 

Darcy toys with her taser, fingers itching to hit the trigger, and the suits outside continue milling about uselessly. She glances back towards the open door, but no one’s near it. She wonders who all they think’s inside and how fast they’d be in here if they knew it was just her by herself. 

She wonders where Bucky is, and if he’s even going to be willing to come with them at all. 

She wonders what it’s gonna take for her to stop thinking of him like he’s her alpha, but doubts that whatever it is is gonna happen today.

**Author's Note:**

> [Tumblr!](http://suzukiblu.tumblr.com/)


End file.
